


Sheith Week 2k16

by BirdSpell



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassin's Creed Fusion, M/M, Sheith Week 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-08-10 16:44:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 23,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7853065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdSpell/pseuds/BirdSpell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AUGUST<br/>Day 1: Date<br/>Day 2: Injury<br/>Day 3: Pining<br/>Day 4: Crossover<br/>Day 5: Animals<br/>Day 6: Nightmare<br/>Day 7: Memories<br/>OCTOBER<br/>Day 1: Hurt/comfort<br/>Day 2: Together/alone<br/>Day 3: Fight me/love me<br/>Day 4: Flashback/reality<br/>Day 5: Training/playful<br/>Day 6: Galra Keith/dark Shiro<br/>Day 7: Free day</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1: Date

**Author's Note:**

> And I'm late for Sheith Week. This is not a surprise.

Keith is probably overthinking this. 

 

“Do you want to go out somewhere?” Shiro had asked. “The Kerberos mission leaves in three days, and it would be nice to do something together beforehand, since we won't see each other for a while.”

 

None of that in any way suggests a romantic date, just two friends going into town to spend time together. It's not a date. Besides, why would Shiro ask out a skinny cadet almost seven years his junior when he has friends in just about every department? No, there's no way it's a date, even if a large part of Keith wishes it was. 

 

That doesn't stop him worrying about it as if it was a date, though. It takes him almost twenty minutes just to decide what to wear. Eventually he settles on a black t-shirt and jeans, his ever-present knife hanging from his belt. He ties his hair back into a loose ponytail before deciding that he's ready to go, and taking any more time on this would be ridiculous. There's a knock at the door a couple minutes later. Keith jumps off the bed, makes sure his clothes are straight, and trots over to open it. 

 

Shiro grins at him. He's wearing his usual skintight casual clothes, which show off his muscles in a way that is very unfair. “Hey,” he says. “You… You look… good.” He sounds almost… nervous. But that doesn't make sense, because this isn't a date, just two friends going out to do friend things. Right?

 

“Y-you too,” Keith stammers, mentally kicking himself immediately after the words leave his mouth. Shiro doesn't just look good, he looks amazingly, unfairly handsome, and that's not making Keith's life any easier. 

 

“So… Do you want to… go?” Shiro moves as if to hold his arm out for Keith to take, then apparently thinks better of it and runs his hand through his hair instead. 

 

“Yeah, let's.” Keith sets off for the hangars, only for Shiro to quickly grab his wrist. 

 

“This way,” he says with a grin. “I've got a surprise for you.”

 

Shiro leads him to the officers' hangar, where Shiro's hoverbike is waiting in its bay. Apparently he decided to paint it red in the month since Keith last saw it. Something small and jingling flies through the air towards Keith's head, and he snatches it out of the air instinctively. “Keys?” he asks, glancing down at them. He looks at the hoverbike, then Shiro. “Shiro, what-?”

 

Shiro grins. “Since I can't bring it into space. It seemed a shame to leave it sitting here for a year, so I thought you might want to borrow it.” He holds out a hand as if to take the keys back. “If you don't want it…”

 

“I want it, I want it!” Keith bounces the keys in his hand. “Why me? Why not one of the officers?”

 

Shiro chuckles, steering him into the bay. “Because you're my best friend, and the best pilot I know. I can't think of anyone who'd be a better choice.”

 

Keith feels his face heating up, and fights the urge to turn away. “Takashi…” he says softly. “Thank you.”

 

“My pleasure.” Shiro rests a hand on his shoulder. “You want to start it up?”

 

He's flown Shiro's bike before, and he knows what to do, but… “Why don't you fly?” he suggests, holding out the keys. “It is probably the last chance you'll get for a year.”

 

Shiro takes the keys and favours him with an especially warm smile. “Yeah, I'll do that,” he says. “Thanks, Keith.”

 

They climb on without another word. Keith settles behind Shiro, arms wrapped around his waist. He's man enough to admit, if only to himself, that that's one of the reasons that he suggested Shiro pilot the bike. They don't talk much on the way into town, the wind ripping away their words unless they yell, even standing so close together. In fact, they don't say anything until they've locked up the bike in the hangar on the edge of town and the keys are in Keith's pocket. 

 

Shiro smiles at him. “So what do you want to do?” he asks. 

 

Keith hasn't really put much thought into it, too distracted by the idea of going on a sort-of date with Shiro. His stomach growls. He flushes. “Uh… dinner?” he suggests. 

 

Shiro laughs. “Dinner sounds great,” he says. “I know a nice place, not far from here. Shall we?”

 

“Lead the way.” Keith falls into step at Shiro's side. “What sort of restaurant is it?”

 

“It's nice,” is all Shiro says. “You'll see when we get there.”

 

Now he's curious. “Alright, fine. Don't tell me and leave me to suffer.”

 

Shiro laughs. “Don't be so dramatic. It's only a few minutes away.”

 

Keith smiles. He likes making Shiro laugh. “I'm going to miss this,” he says.

 

“Miss what?”

 

He shrugs. “Just… this. Spending time together. It's nice.” He'll miss Shiro while he's gone. A whole year without him seems almost too much. 

 

“I'll miss it, too,” Shiro tells him. “But I'm sure the time will go by quickly. I'll be back before you know it.”

 

“I'll have graduated by the time you get back,” Keith says. 

 

“It wouldn't surprise me if you were Garrison Commander by the time I get back,” Shiro laughs. 

 

“That's never gonna happen. Iverson hates me.” Keith grins. “If it weren't for you, he'd have kicked me out years ago.”

 

“Don't sell yourself short,” Shiro insists. “If it weren't for your incredible piloting skills he'd have kicked you out years ago.” They both laugh. “Oh, here we are.”

 

Keith glances up at the restaurant and freezes. “No,” he says. “No way. Shiro, this place is really expensive! I can't ask you to bring me here, you know I can't afford it-”

 

“But I can,” Shiro says. “Let me treat you?”

 

Keith hesitates. “It's not fair to expect you to pay for me,” he says. 

 

“Keith,” Shiro says warmly. “I _want_  to. It's not a question of you expecting anything. I just want to do something nice for you. If you really don't want to, we can go somewhere else.”

 

“If… If you're sure…” Keith decides. “I guess it would be nice.”

 

“Then it's settled.” Shiro's arm falls around Keith's waist as they head into the building. Keith blushes, but makes no effort to remove it. 

 

They get a table with little difficulty. It's a classy restaurant, sure, but it's pretty late on a Monday night, so not many people are out. They order quickly and sit in comfortable silence until the drinks arrive. Keith eyes Shiro's wine longingly. He still can't order alcohol in public, and it's very annoying. Shiro chuckles and holds the glass towards him. Keith doesn't bother to take it, just leans across the table and takes a sip like that. 

 

“It's nice,” he says. 

 

Shiro nods. “I'm going to miss wine in space,” he admits. 

 

“More than you'll miss me?” Keith teases. 

 

Shiro looks over at him, dead serious. “I could never miss anything more than I'll miss you,” he says quietly. 

 

Keith blushes. “I'm going to miss you, too,” he says. An entire year without Shiro… _I'll miss you_  doesn't seem strong enough. 

 

Shiro smiles faintly. “It'll be fine,” he promises. “A year isn't that long, right?”

 

“I guess.” The mood has dropped rapidly.

 

Shiro coughs. “I expect you to outrank me by the time I get back,” he says lightly. 

 

Keith grins, recognising the subject change for what it is. “What? No way! I'll be lucky to get any rank at all, you know all our superiors hate me!”

 

Their talk remains lighthearted throughout the meal and most of the way back to the hangar where they left the bike. It's raining lightly at this point. Shiro's arm is around Keith's waist again, not that he minds. Shiro abruptly falls silent just as the hangar comes into sight, and Keith stops, pulling Shiro up short beside him. “What is it?” he asks. 

 

Shiro drags up a smile. “It's nothing,” he says. 

 

“No, it's something,” Keith insists. “Tell me.”

 

Shiro sighs, leading Keith under the awning of a nearby building. “There's… something I told myself I'd do today,” he begins slowly, “but now that I'm here I'm not sure if I should.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I'm not sure if it's the right thing to do.” Shiro sighs again. “I'm not even sure if it's legal.”

 

“Since when do we let legality dictate morality?” Keith asks. “I certainly don't.”

 

Shiro laughs. “No, you don't,” he agrees. “But I'm not sure if you'll agree with this particular decision. It could ruin… everything.”

 

“If you don't think you should, then don't,” Keith says, “but what's life without a little risk?”

 

“You're right, of course,” Shiro says. “I'm just not sure…” He reaches out tentatively and brushes a hand along Keith's jawline. Keith leans into the touch automatically, eyes slipping half closed. 

 

“Takashi,” he says, uncertain. 

 

“Keith,” Shiro murmurs back. His hand slips from Keith's jaw to his chin, tilting his head back slightly as Shiro leans in. Keith's eyes close a moment before their lips touch. 

 

It's the perfect first kiss, he thinks. Shiro's lips are warm and soft against his own, with just barely enough pressure to feel. It's gentle and chaste and hesitant, and Keith can't imagine how he went seventeen years without this. His arms rise of their own accord to wrap around Shiro's shoulders, and Shiro's fall around his waist. They're both slightly out of breath by the time they pull apart a few inches. 

 

“Takashi,” Keith says again. “What… Is that why you asked me to go out with you today?”

 

“Partially,” Shiro admits. “Mostly I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

 

Keith groans, letting his head fall against Shiro's chest. “Why do you have to be so _perfect_?” he asks, voice muffled. 

 

He can feel Shiro's laughter in his chest. “Sorry?” he says lightly. 

 

Keith pulls away and rises onto his toes so he can kiss Shiro again. This one is much shorter, but no less wonderful. He doesn't think he'll ever get sick of this. Shiro sighs when he pulls away again. “We shouldn't be doing this,” he says. He doesn't make any attempt to move away, though. “You're too young-”

 

“Shut up,” Keith insists. “I don't care. I _want_  this, Takashi. Don't you dare tell me it isn't right, or I'm too young.”

 

“Alright, alright,” Shiro says. “Not another word, I promise.”

 

“Good,” Keith says.

 

With that said, they continue to the hangar hand in hand.

 

So it _was_  a date, after all. 


	2. Day 2: Injury

Keith doesn't know what to do. 

 

This is all his fault. He acted like an idiot trying to help Shiro and put all of them in danger, and now he's crashed on an alien planet and the others are scattered and he doesn't know where he is or where they are and _something_  hurts like hell. He doesn't know what to _do_. 

 

He tries to stand from where he was thrown by the force of impact, and something in his leg shrieks in protest. It doesn't feel broken, at least, but it hurts. Everything hurts, actually. He's probably going to turn several interesting shades of green and purple over the next few days, but he's alive, at least. 

 

He's bleeding, he realises abruptly, raising a hand to his head. It comes away wet with blood. His leg, his head, a few other superficial scrapes. Far better than he was expecting, given the magnitude of the crash. “Red?” he calls. The lion's presence in his mind stirs briefly. He can feel her anger, and winces. At least she let him know that she's still… alive? Operational? “Sorry, Red,” he says. “Uh, could you get the comms up? Please?”

 

The comm screen pops up on the console. “Thanks.” He turns the comms back on quickly, cursing himself for muting them to begin with. “Guys?” he calls. “Are you there? Can you hear me? Hello?” 

 

Static. And if they're not working, it's unlikely that the short-range comms in his helmet will pick anything up, but it's worth a shot. “Hey!” he yells. “Shiro? Lance? Pidge? Hunk? Allura? Coran? Is anyone there? Anyone?”

 

As he talks, he heads to the back to grab Red's med kit and wraps his wounds as best he can. He keeps going, pretty much collapsing into his chair. “Come on, guys! If you're listening, this isn't funny! Say something!” He's beginning to panic now. Best case scenario, his comms are damaged or he's out of range, and he's wounded and trapped on an alien planet in a damaged lion with no way to call for help. The worst case scenario he doesn't want to consider, because if it's not a problem on his end… “Takashi?” he whimpers. “Takashi, please. Answer me.”

 

The comm crackles suddenly. “Keith!” Shiro calls. “Are… okay? Can't…”

 

“Takashi!” Keith jolts upright. “Takashi, are you okay?!” He taps at the comm. “Red, can you get better audio at all?”

 

Shiro's image appears on the screen. He's bloody and obviously in pain, but he smiles weakly. “Keith? Can you hear me? Are you alright?”

 

“Fine, fine,” Keith says. “What about you?”

 

“Don't worry about me,” Shiro says. “I think I know where you are. Are there any trees around you?”

 

“Uh…” Keith glances through Red's eyes. “Yeah, one. It's huge and bright purple.”

 

“Okay, good. I'm right above you. Hang on, I'll land.”

 

After a moment, the Black Lion drops out of the sky to land heavily beside them. Keith sighs in relief and scrambles out of Red, barely remembering to throw on his helmet as he leaves. Black opens up as he approaches, and he runs straight to the cockpit. “Takashi-!”

 

He freezes. Obviously landing Black took the last of Shiro's strength; he's collapsed over the console, eyes closed and blood leaking from a gash in his side. “Oh shit, Takashi!” He runs to his side. “Takashi, come on, wake up!”

 

Black rumbles. “Right, med kit. Sorry, Blackie.” He hurries to the back and grabs the kit. His leg gives out momentarily on the way back to Shiro, but he manages to rebalance before he drops everything. Black lets out a concerned growl. “I'm fine, don't worry about me.”

 

He manages to haul Shiro out of his chair and lay him out flat on the floor. Luckily the Garrison had a mandatory first aid class; the wound needs stitches. Keith isn't the neatest when it comes to sewing, but he manages to stop the worst of the bleeding and bandage Shiro up. Then he turns to the console. “Blackie? I know I'm not your paladin, but could you bring up the comms, please?”

 

Black obliges with an almost amused-sounding hum. “Thanks. Hello? Hey! Guys?!”

 

“Keith?!” It's Allura. “What are you doing in the Black Lion?”

 

“We ended up on the same planet,” Keith says. “Shiro's out cold, but he's alive. Should be fine. Red's long-range comms are out. She's kind of a mess. And she's really mad at me. But we're all alive, so that's something. Is everyone okay?”

 

“We believe so,” Allura says. “For now, focus on helping Shiro and getting the Red Lion back to full power. We will come get you as soon as we can.” The comm shuts off. 

 

Keith sighs, collapsing into Shiro's chair. “What a mess,” he says. Black rumbles in agreement. 

 

Shiro groans from his place on the floor. Keith instantly slides from the chair to kneel beside him. “Takashi?” he calls softly. “Can you hear me, Takashi?”

 

“Keith…?” Shiro mumbles, trying to sit up. Keith rests a hand on his shoulder and coaxes him to lie down again. “What happened?”

 

“You must have blacked out while you were landing,” Keith says. “You need to be more careful, Takashi! You could've died!”

 

“I was more worried about you,” Shiro replies. That shuts Keith up immediately. After a year without Shiro, he's not used to people putting his safety above their own, and it's such a _Shiro_  thing to say that he can't help the soft chuckle that breaks past his lips. “What's so funny?”

 

“Sorry, I shouldn't laugh.” Keith smiles weakly. “It's just… That's so _you_ , Takashi. You always put my safety and comfort above yours. It's so annoyingly kind.”

 

“I'm not going to apologise, if that's what you want.” Shiro tries to sit up again, and Keith presses a hand against his back to help him. “You're bleeding.”

 

Keith touches the bandage around his forehead. “I'm okay. Head wounds always bleed a lot, you know.”

 

“I know.” Shiro brushes a few loose strands of hair out of Keith's face. “That doesn't mean I'm not going to worry.”

 

“Well, I'm going to worry about you, then,” Keith says. “You're hurt far worse than I am.”

 

“This is nothing,” Shiro assures him. “I've had far worse in the past year.”

 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?!” Keith demands. “You- You're infuriating!” He wants to collapse across Shiro's chest, but quickly thinks better of it. “You scared me, you ass,” he mutters. 

 

“Keith.” Shiro reaches out and cups the back of Keith's head. “It's okay.”

 

Keith edges closer, leaning forward to rest his head on Shiro's shoulder. “It's okay,” he repeats quietly. “For a second I thought you might be dead.”

 

“I'm right here,” Shiro promises. “Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere.”

 

“Sorry,” Keith says, twisting to settle more comfortably against Shiro's uninjured side. 

 

“I'm alright,” Shiro says. He leans down briefly and kisses Keith's cheek. “You don't need to apologise.”

 

He might say something else afterward, but Keith doesn't hear it. His hand rises to his cheek. It tingles where Shiro's lips touched it. “Takashi…?”

 

Shiro stares at him for a moment, a blush creeping over his cheeks. “Sorry,” he says. “Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to…”

 

Keith laughs. “Takashi, it's okay. I don't mind.” Impulsively, he leans up and kisses Shiro's cheek in return. He can feel the blush stretching over his face as he pulls back. He's missed this. Even if Shiro stops and he never gets this again, it's nice. 

 

“Sorry,” Shiro says again, his hand cupping Keith's face. Without another word, he leans in and kisses him. 

 

Keith presses back enthusiastically, leaning into it until his head throbs horribly and he leans back with a groan. “This might not be the best time for… this,” he admits. 

 

“You're… probably right,” Shiro agrees. “Later?”

 

“Later,” Keith says. 

 

The situation is still awful, and they're still stranded on an alien planet, and they still don't know where any of the others are, but he's pretty sure they're going to be okay. 


	3. Day 3: Pining

“I miss you,” Keith says aloud, staring at the ceiling of his dorm room. 

 

“You say something?” Jackson asks from the bunk below. 

 

“No, nothing.” He sighs, rolling onto his side. The Kerberos mission left just over two months ago, and he misses Shiro more than he thought anyone could miss anyone. He wants him back. He wishes he'd never accepted the stupid mission. Of course, Shiro only worked up the courage to kiss him because of the mission, so…

 

He gets up abruptly, climbing down from his bunk. He needs something to distract him. Technically, he shouldn't be going out after curfew, but no one has to know; Jackson doesn't care enough to say anything, and no one else is going to see him. He'll just head up to the roof for a few hours, it'll be fine.

 

There's no one else in the halls. He timed this perfectly. The latest patrol just finished, which gives him a twenty minute window to get through the building before the next one comes through. He moves fast, and slides the roof door shut just as footsteps begin to sound behind him. 

 

It's a beautiful night. There are no clouds in sight, and the stars are clearly visible. It's the sort of night that Shiro would like. He often used his authority and reputation to get Keith out of his dorm and out into the desert or onto the roof. They'd lie on their backs looking up at the stars, talking quietly until the sun began to rise. He misses that, too. He doesn't have anyone to talk to here. There's still ten more months to go, too…

 

“Takashi,” Keith says quietly, “I wish you were here now. I hope everything's going okay out there. I miss you.” It's not enough. He wants to say more, but he can't think of anything. Well, he can think of one thing, but he wants to say that in person. 

 

He closes his eyes and pictures Shiro as he'd looked that last morning, in full uniform with a wide grin stretched over his face. Keith had gone to meet him at his door, and Shiro had tugged him into the room and kissed him until they were both gasping and flushed. They'd said their final goodbyes outside the shuttle, Shiro's parents beaming proudly nearby and the rest of the crew talking to their family on the other side of the shuttle. Shiro had hugged him. “I'll think about you every day until I get back,” he'd said softly. 

 

“I won't stop thinking about you until you get back,” Keith had replied. He hadn't really meant it at the time; it had been an exaggeration more than anything else. In the end, though, it turned out more true than he expected. Shiro has been on his mind constantly. He's even dreamed of him, much to his embarrassment. 

 

He wants to go back to the days spent in Shiro's room, his head resting in Shiro's lap and Shiro's fingers carding through his hair. He wants to talk to Shiro, attempting to switch between Japanese and Korean and laughing when they inevitably mistranslate things. He misses flying Shiro's hoverbike through the desert and wandering the town together and Shiro ruffling his hair and pulling him into a hug and he really, really misses kissing him. 

 

He wonders if Shiro misses him, too. He seemed to be on good terms with the rest of his team; what if Shiro doesn't miss him? What if Shiro realises he made a mistake, kissing a cadet? What if he changes his mind? What if he gets back and decides he doesn't feel the same way?

 

Keith forces the thoughts away, staring up at the stars. Shiro is out there somewhere, flying through space with two other people in a little ship. He wishes he was there with him. He wishes he could have gone, too. He's lonely here, without Shiro. He wants him back. 

 

“Takashi,” he mumbles, eyes drifting closed, “where are you? What are you doing right now? Are you enjoying yourself out there? I wish you were here now.”

 

Ten more months to go. 

 

…

 

“Ten months to go,” Shiro sighs. 

 

“Yeah,” Matt says. “I miss Mom and Katie already.” He grins. “But look at all this, Shiro! It's beautiful out here. Look at all the stars!”

 

Shiro chuckles. “You remind me of Keith,” he says. “I used to bring him out into the desert with me to look at the stars… He'd love it out here.”

 

“You miss him,” Sam says warmly. “Well, think of all the stories you'll have to tell him when we get back.”

 

“Yeah, you're right,” Shiro says. “I just keep thinking of things I wish I'd said before we left. It feels like I didn't give him a proper goodbye.”

 

“I feel the same about my wife,” Sam tells him. “I'm sure you gave him the best goodbye you could.” He gives Shiro a knowing look. 

 

Shiro blushes. “What- We didn't- He's seventeen, Sam!”

 

Sam chuckles. “I understand. Don't worry. I'm sure he understood whatever goodbye you gave him just fine.”

 

“Yeah, he probably did,” Shiro says. “I wonder what he's doing now.”

 

Matt checks his watch. “It's about two in the morning, so he's probably asleep or studying or something.”

 

“There's no guarantees with Keith,” Shiro tells him. He chuckles. “I remember two years ago, there was one time I was walking through the school at about 3 AM and I stopped by the sim room, and there he was, flying one of the simulations.”

 

“He's a pilot?”

 

Sam snaps his fingers. “This wouldn't be Keith Kogane, would it? The Garrison's new prodigy?”

 

“That's him.” Shiro smiles wistfully. “He's the best pilot I've ever seen. Better than me by a long shot. I'd say he's the best the Garrison has ever seen.”

 

“Laying it on a little thick, don't you think?” Sam asks. 

 

“Not in the slightest,” Shiro insists. He sighs. “I miss him. A part of me wishes I hadn't taken this mission, just so that I wouldn't have had to leave him behind. I don't think I would if I had the chance, but… I just want to see him again. It's incredible out here, but I can't wait to go home.”

 

He misses Keith so much it hurts. Whenever anything interesting happens, he turns automatically to comment on it, only to realise that there's no one there. He dreams of Keith's brilliant smile and fiery temper, and wishes that they were together again. He wants to feel Keith's hair against his fingers and listen to his laugh, to hold him and kiss him and just be by his side. 

 

*I love you,* he thinks for the millionth time. *I love you and I miss you and I can't wait to see you again*. 

 

Ten more months. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go, all caught up! Hopefully the next chapters will be less rough than these three...


	4. Day 4: Crossover

Shiro shifts forward a short distance to peer over the edge of the roof, waiting. His arm aches where the Piece of Eden had created a replacement for the one he lost in his capture, and he scowls. He doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to help the Templars, and he certainly doesn't want to do anything to harm a young Assassin, but he has to obey his orders. Matt and Sam are relying on him. 

 

They'd been foolish. Sam Holt is a scientist in the employ of the Assassins; when the Templars found out where he was hiding, he had to move. It was assumed that Matt and Shiro would be enough to protect him on the way, but the Templars had been waiting. All three were captured, and Shiro's arm had been so badly damaged in the fighting that the Templars had removed it. That wasn't all bad; there were Assassins who had continued to serve the Brotherhood after such injuries in the past, though never as field agents. The Templars, however, had given him a new arm, created by one of their Pieces of Eden. He doesn't know which one, but it's a good arm, far more powerful than his original one. The Templars use his friends' lives against him, now; if he doesn't obey their orders, Sam and Matt will die. 

 

His current mission is to capture one Keith Kogane. His father, Thace, is a high-ranking Templar, though whether Keith knows that or not is debatable. As far as Shiro knows, the kid grew up thinking his parents were dead. He's an Assassin now, and a damn good one. Shiro saw him a few times before he was captured. He saw him fight. Keith is one of the best he's ever seen, and he's still so young. There were whispers that he might end up equal to Altaïr himself. At this point, his kill count is second to only a handful of the Brotherhood, and he's not even twenty yet. Now Zarkon wants him dealt with. 

 

Originally, he was wanted dead, but Thace talked Zarkon down. The kid is far more valuable to them alive; the information he knows could be useful, and if he can be persuaded to switch sides… Zarkon agreed, so now Shiro has been sent to bring him in. 

 

Movement below him. There's Keith; he wears a distinctive red jacket, rather than the white that the rest of the Brotherhood favours, which helps hide bloodstains but also makes him pretty easy to spot. He's alone, muttering to himself in what sounds like Korean. Shiro takes a deep breath and leaps off the roof. 

 

He lands right behind Keith, arms already rising to clamp around his throat and hold him still. The kid spins around before he gets the chance. “Shiro?!” he asks, voice high with shock. “What are you-?!”

 

Shiro strikes before he can finish, aiming for the solar plexus. Keith springs backward. He lands gracefully, drawing a knife from the back of his jacket. “Sorry,” Shiro says. “I don't want to do this.”

 

“Then don't,” Keith replies. He leaps forward, knife flicking toward him. He's fast. Shiro barely manages to get his arm up in time. The knife screeches along the metal, and Keith skips back a pace, eyeing it. “What the…”

 

Shiro attacks before he can finish, his arm glowing brightly as he swings. Keith dances away, knife sliding forward, trying to find a gap in Shiro's defense. Neither of them is gaining any ground, and Shiro curses silently. He has to end this quickly, before someone else comes along. Keith might not have thought to raise the alarm, but if anyone else sees them, they will. 

 

He gets his chance eventually. Keith leaps up, kicking off the wall to gain a little extra height, and comes down on Shiro with all his strength and weight behind his knife. Shiro dodges to the side, and Keith lands among a tangle of roots from a nearby tree. He staggers, fighting to regain his balance, and Shiro catches his wrists in his human hand, the metal one rising to Keith's throat. 

 

“Drop the knife,” he says, and Keith does so, if reluctantly. Shiro turns the boy to face him, careful to keep his hands trapped behind his back. Keith's hood falls back in the movement, and Shiro hesitates. He knew Keith was young, sure; he knew he was eighteen years old. But his face looks much younger than that, with his eyes wide and face flushed with exertion. His hair is coming loose from the ponytail he must have tied it in before coming outside, and strands are sticking to his cheeks and forehead. 

 

Shiro tries to focus on Matt and Sam, and discharges his arm into Keith's side. The boy collapses into his arms with a soft gasp. Shiro slings him over one shoulder, crouches to pick up his knife, and begins scaling the building again. Luckily the Templars have a helicopter waiting on a nearby helipad; freerunning is hard with a person's dead weight slung over his shoulder. Once he arrives, Keith is quickly disarmed and chained up, then left under guard while Shiro joins Thace at the front of the craft. 

 

Shiro is still holding Keith's knife. There's cloth wrapped around the hilt and the top of the blade, he notices. It's strange. Thace notices what he's holding. “I left him that the night I left,” the older man says with a sad smile. “I thought it might… soften the blow a bit.” He reaches out and takes it from Shiro's hands, beginning to unwrap the cloth. “It was a reminder of where he came from,” he says as it comes free. The Templar cross is etched into the metal. Shiro can understand why Keith would keep it hidden. 

 

“Are you really going to let Zarkon do whatever he wants to him?” Shiro asks. “He'll probably hand him over to Haggar. Can you let her go anywhere near your son?”

 

Thace sighs heavily. “All I can do is pray that they don't harm him,” he says. “I can't stop them.”

 

There's a sudden clanking and muffled yelling from the main body of the helicopter. “I guess he's awake,” Shiro says. “I'll handle it.”

 

He heads back, and freezes. It's almost funny. Keith somehow has managed to get one of the guards hanging from the helicopter's skids, while the other frantically hauls him up. Keith is sitting a good three feet from where Shiro left him, and giving him the filthiest glare he's ever seen. Shiro sighs and helps pull the guard back into the copter, then turns to kneel in front of Keith. “If I remove the gag, are you going to scream or try to bite me?” he asks. 

 

Keith raises an eyebrow, and Shiro chuckles. “Alright. I'll take it off, but if you do anything stupid, I'll gag you again in a heartbeat,” he warns. Keith nods, and he carefully unties the gag. Keith spits it out onto his palm and licks his lips several times. 

 

“Why are you doing this?” he asks. “I mean… You're Takashi Shirogane! You're a legend!”

 

“That's not important,” Shiro says. “Look, just do what they tell you, and you'll be fine. Okay?”

 

Keith scowls at him. “I'll die before I obey a Templar,” he says. 

 

Shiro remembers what Iverson had said while training Keith. “The kid's all fire and no sense,” he'd said. “He's got a real gift, but I wouldn't be surprised if he's dead five minutes into his first mission. He never thinks!” He was right, Shiro thinks. There's fierce defiance in Keith's eyes, and he's clearly not thinking of survival. It might not be a bad trait for an Assassin to have. 

 

“Okay,” Shiro says. “But it might be better for you to just give in. They'll torture you, Keith. They will torture you until you are begging them to kill you, and then they'll keep going until you give them every scrap of knowledge you possess. I don't want you to have to go through that.”

 

“Is that what happened to you?” Keith asks quietly. Smart kid. 

 

“…Sort of,” Shiro admits. “It's complicated.”

 

“Huh.” Keith shifts in his chains, drawing his knees up to his chest. He's scared, Shiro realises suddenly. He's only a kid, Assassin or no. 

 

“Hey.” Shiro rests his human hand on Keith's shoulder and waits for the kid to look at him. “You'll be fine. Don't worry.”

 

Keith offers him a crooked grin. “Yeah. I'll manage.”

 

…

 

Keith is the most infuriating prisoner Shiro has ever seen. He talks back all the time, yells insults at Zarkon and Haggar in both English and Korean, and gives them the most trivial information possible. 

 

Shiro is standing behind a panel of reflective glass, watching Haggar interrogate him. “Tell me about the Brotherhood,” she says. 

 

“Oh, they're irritating,” Keith tells her. “Lance never shuts up about girls and his precious family, and Hunk gets airsick whenever we go anywhere. Allura and Coran hardly ever go out on missions, they just sit around all day giving us orders. Pidge is okay, though. And-”

 

“Enough!” Haggar yells. Shiro barely holds back a chuckle. They've been going at this for three hours, and Keith hasn't given up a single worthwhile piece of information. Haggar waves a frustrated hand in his direction. “Take him back to the cell,” she says in frustration and storms out of the room. 

 

Shiro walks in before the door can close. “You know, eventually they are going to start torturing you,” he says. 

 

“Probably,” Keith says, holding out his hands so Shiro can unchain him from the table. “But they haven't yet.”

 

Shiro sighs. “Keith, I worry about you sometimes.”

 

“Do you?”

 

Shiro cuffs his hands together behind his back and leads him out of the room. “Mmhm. They trust me a little because they know I won't put Sam and Matt in danger, but you have no such guarantee. They could easily get tired of you and decide to kill you.”

 

“Well, then maybe you should figure out where Sam and Matt are so that you can break them out,” Keith suggests. “Some of the other prisoners have been saying that they heard of a couple Assassins being held in the east cell block…”

 

Shiro isn't allowed in the east cell block. It's definitely possible, but… “Even if they _are_  there, how am I supposed to get them out?”

 

They've had this conversation, or variants of it, repeatedly over the past few weeks. Shiro has found that he actually likes Keith. He's intelligent and brave, and he might be infuriating to deal with sometimes but he's a good person, really. Shiro doesn't want to see him suffer. He'd get him out if he could, but he can't put Matt and Sam in danger. It's an unpleasant position to be in, to say the least. 

 

Keith shrugs. “Search me. Don't you have anyone you can ask for help?”

 

“No, I-” Shiro stops walking as a thought strikes him. Keith stops as well as Shiro jerks him to a halt. “Wait. Maybe… there is someone… Come on, let's get you back to your cell.”

 

“Oh, fine,” Keith sighs. 

 

Shiro walks him back to the cell quickly and takes off in search of Thace. He finds him in the older man's room, sitting at the table, and settles down across from him. “Keith,” he says. 

 

“What about him?” Thace asks. His eyes remain on the knife in his hands, but Shiro has his attention, he can tell. 

 

“I can get him out,” Shiro says, “but not if Sam and Matt are still in danger. You have access to the east cell block; are they there?”

 

Thace sighs, looking around. “…Yes,” he admits. “I assume you want me to get them out for you?”

 

“Yes,” Shiro says. “Once they're away, it'll be simple for me to break Keith out. But Zarkon can't find out Sam and Matt are free until Keith and I are safely away. Can you do it?”

 

“I'll be guarding their section tomorrow morning,” Thace says thoughtfully. “Will that give you enough time to prepare?”

 

“That should be fine,” Shiro says. “Send me some sort of signal once they're safe.”

 

…

 

The next morning, they run into a small complication. 

 

“Keith?” Shiro calls softly, glancing into the cell. “Keith!”

 

“He's not here,” one of the other prisoners says helpfully. “Haggar took him to her room a couple hours ago.”

 

“What?!” If Haggar has Keith in her rooms, then she's finally gotten sick of waiting for him to give up important information of his own accord. Their entire plan might be blown now. 

 

His phone rings before he can decide on what to do. It's Thace. “Those damned friends of yours are making a lot of noise this morning,” the man says. “Good thing there isn't anyone but me near them.” He hangs up before Shiro can respond. 

 

Sam and Matt are gone. Shiro has an hour or two at most before Zarkon realises they've escaped and comes after him. This is bad. He takes off for Haggar's room at a dead run. Haggar's room is unpleasant to say the least. He hates going there, but if she has Keith…

 

The door opens just as he reaches the room, and he ducks behind it just as Haggar steps out. Shiro holds it open as she turns the corner and vanishes from sight, then ducks in. It's disgusting, filled with all sorts of torture devices, but he focuses on Keith, kneeling in the centre of the room with his hands behind his back and his head down. There's blood trickling from a scrape along his cheek, but he seems more or less unhurt. 

 

“Keith,” Shiro says, kneeling in front of him. “Keith, are you alright?”

 

Keith looks up at him, eyes wide. “…Yeah,” he says uncertainly. “More or less, I think. Shiro, what are you doing here? If she catches you, your friends-”

 

“They're long gone,” Shiro tells him. “A friend of mine broke them out this morning.” Keith's gear is lying on a table nearby. The knife is bloody at the tip, and Shiro casts an eye over Keith's form as he scoops it and his jacket up. There are gashes in the fabric, blood soaking into it. She used his own knife to cut him, Shiro realises, anger rising. He moves behind Keith and uses the knife to slice open the rough rope securing his arms.  The skin is reddened where the material rubbed against his wrists, but there's no blood, at least. “Come on,” he says, offering Keith his jacket. He can feel the telltale weight of hidden blades in the sleeves. “Let's get you out of here.”

 

Keith shrugs on the jacket and stands. His legs shake momentarily, then he's on his feet and grinning. “Come on, before she comes back,” he says. “She said she forgot something and went to go get it, but I don't think we have much time.”

 

“Right.” Shiro shoves the door open and looks around quickly. “It's clear. Come on, quickly.”

 

Keith slips out into the hall. He stays low, walking silently. It's been too long since Shiro last saw Assassin training at work without having to defend against it. Shiro heads off down the hall, Keith skulking a few paces behind him. The few guards they see are easily avoided; Shiro distracts them long enough for Keith to edge around, staying out of sight. 

 

They both know their luck can't hold forever, but by the time it runs out the exit is in sight. Sendak, Zarkon's most trusted subordinate, steps in front of them. Keith ducks out of sight before he can be seen, leaving Shiro alone in the hall. “Sendak,” he says. “What is it?”

 

Sendak shrugs. “An interesting thing occurred this morning,” he replies. “Your friends escaped. Their cell was left open with no one inside and Thace unconscious on the floor. And just a few minutes ago, Haggar informed me that Thace's boy is gone, too. You wouldn't know anything about this, would you?”

 

“Nothing,” Shiro says. He's not sure how Thace managed to knock himself out, but he's quietly relieved; at least now he won't be suspected. “Perhaps Sam and Matt freed Keith after they escaped?”

 

“Or perhaps you planned it all,” Sendak says calmly. There's a flicker of movement behind him; Keith has managed to sneak past while Sendak was distracted, and now nothing stands between him and the door. He hesitates, though, glancing between the street outside and Shiro. Why isn't he running? He has to get out of here!

 

Sendak takes a step towards Shiro. “I imagine Haggar will want to talk to you about this,” he says. “Feel free to resist.”

 

Before he can come any closer, he staggers with a roar of pain. Keith springs back as he turns, hidden blade still extended and covered in blood, and he glances at Shiro. “Come on!” he yells. 

 

Shiro charges down the hall towards him without a second thought, his arm beginning to glow. By the time Sendak turns to block him, it's almost too late; he feints with his left arm and punches the Templar in the throat with his right. Keith lashes out from behind, hidden blade stabbing into Sendak's lung. As the older man begins to collapse, Shiro grabs Keith's arm and breaks into a run. 

 

By the time the alarm sounds, they've scrambled across the wall and are back on the ground, running down the nearest side street. Keith shoves his bloodied hand into his pocket as they sprint past startled civilians. They don't stop until they reach the nearest safe house. Then they halt, shutting the door behind them and doubling over, panting. Keith begins to laugh, and after a moment, Shiro joins him. 

 

“We did it!” Keith says delightedly. His eyes are shining in the half light of the hallway, and his hair is a mess. Shiro doesn't think he's ever seen anyone look better. “Shiro, we did it!”

 

“We did it,” Shiro repeats, grinning. “We escaped them, we did it!” Without thinking, he wraps his arms around Keith's waist and spins him around in a circle. Keith almost shrieks with laughter, clinging to Shiro's shoulders. Shiro drops him back to his feet. “Uh, sorry.”

 

“It's okay,” Keith says immediately. “I don't mind.”

 

Shiro smiles and hugs him again. “It's going to be difficult to explain all this,” he says thoughtfully. “Seeing as I've been working for the Templars for a year…”

 

“We'll work it out,” Keith says. “Together.”

 

Shiro looks at him, this brilliant, passionate young man that he captured and rescued. Together sounds pretty good, whatever the future holds. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurred to me after I finished this that I could've done a Howl's Moving Castle crossover. Well, maybe I'll do that after this is done.


	5. Day 5: Animals

It's nice, Shiro thinks, to see Earth again. Sure, they have to be careful to make sure that nobody sees them, since all of them have been declared missing, but it's still nice. Well, all except Keith. No one says anything about it, luckily, but Shiro knows why. Keith doesn't have anyone left to declare him missing on Earth. But he has Team Voltron, and he definitely has Shiro, and Shiro really wants to do something nice for him. 

 

When he sees the filthy, hungry-looking little stray, it's the perfect opportunity. He already asked Coran about pets, just out of curiosity, and apparently the food is perfectly fine for animals, so feeding it won't be a problem. And Keith adores cats. Shiro still remembers them flocking to him on trips into town. Keith would always pet them and buy them fish and smile brighter than the sun. Shiro hasn't seen that particular smile in a long time. 

 

He coaxes the little cat into his jacket with a bit of food goo left over from lunch, and heads back to the castle to wait for Keith to return. He probably won't have to wait long; he went with Keith to visit his parents, and he knows that Keith just wanted to check up on a few of his old haunts. Probably he won't be gone more than an hour, total. Allura and Coran question him about his mewing jacket, and then coo over the cat–more of a kitten, really–and run to fetch her something to eat and a bath. 

 

Keith returns just as they're finishing the bath, and the kitten–now fed and clean, if slightly damp–instantly tears away from the towel Allura is holding to claw her way up his clothes and balance on his shoulder, hissing at them. Keith laughs delightedly, reaching up to scratch her behind the ear. “Who's this?” he asks. The kitten stops hissing to purr for him. 

 

“I found her outside,” Shiro tells him. “I thought that we could use a mascot.” He grins. 

 

Keith beams back, and the day seems a little brighter. He lifts the kitten off his shoulder and sits crosslegged on the floor with it in his lap. “She's beautiful!”

 

“Yeah, beautiful is the word I'd use, too,” Shiro says. _And so is the kitten_. She's a lovely animal. At least, she will be once it's had a few good meals; she's a pretty calico with bright amber eyes, currently half closed in pleasure as Keith strokes her. Right now she's a little scrawny, but then, so was Keith when Shiro first met him, and look at him now. 

 

Keith's eyes are almost glowing when he looks up at Shiro again. “We can keep her, right?” he asks. His gaze turns almost pleading, and he glances over at Coran and Allura. “Please?”

 

“I don't… see why not,” Allura decides. 

 

Keith grins again. “She needs a name,” he says. 

 

“Why don't you name her?” Shiro suggests. “She's yours, after all.”

 

Keith stares up at him for a moment, eyes wide. “Mine?” he squeaks. Shiro nods. Keith leaps to his feet, the cat scurrying off his lap, and practically launches himself at Shiro. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

 

Shiro chuckles, returning the hug. “I'm glad you like her,” he says. 

 

“Like her?” Keith asks. “This is the best present anyone's ever gotten for me!”

 

“Well, now I feel bad about the five years' worth of presents I've bought you in the past,” Shiro jokes. 

 

“Close second,” Keith assures him. The kitten mews impatiently and butts her head against his leg, and he crouches to scoop her up. “Oh, sorry. Did I make you get up?” He frowns. “Now, what should I call you…?”

 

“Take your time,” Shiro says. “We'll just call her 'Cat' until you think of something.”

 

“Call who Cat?” Lance asks, strolling into the room with Hunk and Pidge at his side. 

 

“Is that a kitten?” Pidge asks. 

 

Hunk moves closer to take a look. “Aw, she's so cute!” he says, holding out a hand for her to sniff. “What's she doing here?”

 

“She's mine,” Keith says proudly. He offers Shiro another blindingly bright smile. He thinks he might melt. “Shiro found her for me.”

 

“He got you a cat?!” Lance asks. “Oh, so favoritism is at play here. That explains your high marks at the Garrison!” He's probably joking. At least, Shiro hopes he is. 

 

Keith smirks at him. “Say whatever you need to say to make yourself feel better,” he says. 

 

Shiro chuckles awkwardly. “I just happened to see her on the street,” he says. “I knew you always wanted a cat, Keith, so I just picked her up. Besides, it seemed a shame to just leave her there.”

 

Keith scratches the kitten's ears. “How could anyone leave her to starve out there?” he asks. 

 

Lance wanders over to take a look. The cat swipes at him. “Ow! Hey!”

 

Keith laughs. “She's got good taste,” he teases. 

 

Shiro hasn't seen Keith this cheerful since before he left for Kerberos. It's nice to see him smiling again. “Okay you two, that's enough,” he says.  

 

Lance sighs. “She's cute. Why don't you call her Gato?”

 

“That's the most unoriginal name I've ever heard,” Hunk says. “Keith, don't call her that.”

 

“What does it mean?” Keith asks. 

 

“It means cat,” Lance admits. 

 

“Why am I not surprised?” Keith eyes the cat thoughtfully. “I don't know…”

 

“Give it some thought,” Pidge suggests. 

 

“Yeah, I'll do that.” Keith places the cat on the ground by his feet and heads for the door. “Excuse me for a bit.”

 

Pidge crouches down and holds out a hand to the kitten. She sniffs it, then rubs against it, purring softly. Shiro smiles at the sight, then turns to follow Keith out into the desert. 

 

They landed near Keith's old shack, and it's no surprise to see Keith sitting on the roof, staring up at the sky. He always preferred to be high up at the Garrison; it's one of the reasons he's such a good pilot. Shiro climbs up to join him. Keith turns to look at him. “Hey,” he says. 

 

“Hey,” Shiro repeats.

 

“Thanks, again,” Keith tells him, leaning against his side. Shiro's arm falls naturally around Keith's slender shoulders, and he squeezes lightly. 

 

“I'm just glad to see you in such a good mood,” Shiro says. Keith has always been temperamental, but ever since Shiro got back he's seemed… happy and miserable at the same time, somehow. It always gives Shiro the strangest feeling he's forgotten something important. But right now, Keith just looks content. It's nice. 

 

Keith sighs and nuzzles into Shiro's chest. He used to do that at the Garrison sometimes, Shiro recalls. “You remembered,” Keith says. “About the cat, I mean. That means a lot.”

 

“What, did you think I'd forgotten?” Shiro asks. 

 

Keith stiffens, then relaxes so quickly that Shiro could almost believe he imagined it. “There's no telling what you've forgotten, is there?” he asks. “If we don't bring it up, there's no way to know whether you remember or not.”

 

Again, there's that feeling of forgetting something important. Shiro coughs. “So… what are you going to name the kitten?”

 

Keith looks away, flushing. “I… was thinking Goyang-i,” he admits. 

 

What little Korean Keith managed to pummel into him floats to the forefront of his mind, and Shiro laughs. “How is that any different from Lance wanting to call her Gato?” he asks. 

 

Keith smacks his side gently. “Because you're the only one who knows what it means,” he says. “Don't laugh! You know I'm bad at naming things!”

 

Shiro forces himself to calm down a little. “Sorry, sorry. But it is funny.”

 

Keith frowns, but the corner of his mouth twitches upwards. “Fine, maybe a little,” he admits. 

 

Shiro smiles at him. He's missed just talking to Keith like this. Hopefully he'll have plenty of chances in the future. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to Google Translate, Goyang-i is Korean for cat. Let me know if it's wrong, please.


	6. Day 6: Nightmare

It's late when Shiro jolts out of bed, gasping. He can't remember what he dreamed; just brief images of faces and voices that could be dreams or memories. Either way, he doubts he'll be able to fall asleep again. He glances over at the clock, only to remember that it's an Altean clock, and therefore completely incomprehensible. 

 

He sighs, rolling out of bed. He may as well get up. He can go down to the training deck and get some practice in. It'll be good for him. The halls are dark and silent, everyone else having long since fallen asleep. Strangely, the training deck is still lit. It only takes him a moment to figure out why. Keith is probably having another late-night training session. Shiro will send him to bed once he finds him. 

 

The training deck is strangely silent, considering the fact that Keith is in there. The Gladiator is standing in the centre of the room, powered down, as if Keith just stepped away for a moment. It's possible that he went to get a drink or go to the bathroom. Shiro can probably run through at least one level before he gets back. He's about to do just that when he hears a sound. It sounds almost like… a whimper?

 

Shiro follows it, the sounds getting louder and more frequent as he walks. He's so distracted by them that he almost trips over Keith. He's lying beside one of the benches, his jacket balled up under his head like a pillow, sleeping. As Shiro watches, he twitches, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “No…” he mutters. “Don't…” His words trail off into incomprehensible mumbling. 

 

Shiro crouches beside him. “Keith?” he asks quietly. “Hey, wake up.” He reaches out to touch Keith's shoulder, and his eyes snap open. Some instinct makes Shiro grab Keith's wrists as his hand slides out from under the jacket, pinning him in place. It takes all of Shiro's strength to hold him there as he writhes against the touch. “Keith!” he shouts. “It's okay, it's me, I've got you! Come on, wake up!”

 

Keith gasps sharply, blinking several times. “…Shiro?” he asks slowly, uncertainly. 

 

“Yeah,” Shiro confirms. “It's me. You're okay, buddy.”

 

Keith relaxes slowly. There's a clatter of metal; when Shiro glances over, Keith's knife has slipped from his hand and fallen to the floor. He must have had it under his jacket. Shiro thanks his fast reflexes for grabbing Keith's wrist before he could use it; Keith is good with that knife, and Shiro really doesn't want to be on the wrong end of it. He hears a sniffle, and turns his attention back to Keith's face. He's blinking rapidly, probably trying to hold off tears. “Sh-Shiro…” he whimpers. 

 

Shiro leans back a little and pulls Keith upright. He releases his friend's wrists and pulls him into a hug. “It's okay,” he says gently. “Don't worry.”

 

Keith buries his face in Shiro's neck, clinging to his shoulders. Shiro can feel tears beginning to soak into his collar, and lifts his hand to card it through Keith's soft hair. “S-sorry,” Keith manages, voice muffled. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

 

“What are you apologising for?” Shiro asks. “You haven't done anything wrong.”

 

“Should've looked harder,” Keith says. “Should've found you sooner- Should've-” Whatever else he might have said is cut off by a fit of sobs. “I should never have doubted you,” he says once it's passed. “I should never have believed what they said about you…”

 

Oh. Shiro suddenly realises what he's talking about. “I understand,” he says. “I know you didn't believe what they said for long… You got kicked out of the Garrison because you refused to believe them, didn't you? Not that I approve of that, but the point still stands. I know you did everything you could with the information and equipment you had. And you found me, didn't you? You _saved_  me, Keith. Don't ever forget that.”

 

Keith pulls back a little to look at him. His face is streaked with tears, and Shiro feels his heart crack a little. He hates seeing Keith look so sad; he should be smiling and laughing and happy, all the time. “R-really?” he asks quietly. “But… even if I hadn't been there, the others would've…”

 

“Hey,” Shiro interrupts. “Don't think like that. You're the one who distracted the guards and beat up the med-techs. You're the one who brought transportation and gave me a place to stay and recover. You're the one who refused to leave my side until I woke up and calmed me down when I was panicking. The others are great people, but they never would have gotten me out of there without you.”

 

Keith sniffs quietly. “But… they had you for a year, and I- I didn't even know, I couldn't do _anything_. You had to withstand so much, and I didn't-” He nuzzles into Shiro's chest, entire body shaking with sobs. 

 

Shiro rubs his back slowly. “Hey, shh, shh,” he murmurs. The words come to him from nowhere; he isn't entirely sure what he's saying, just that he needs to get Keith to stop crying. He doesn't want Keith to cry. “It's okay, baby. It's alright. I'm fine now, see? We're together again. Everything is going to be just fine, I promise. We're going to be fine. Shh, baby. Don't cry. Please don't cry. You just had a bad dream, that's all. There's nothing to be upset about. It's okay, we're okay, shh…”

 

Eventually the sobs die down to soft whimpers, and Keith pulls his head away from Shiro's chest. “Takashi…”

 

It's always strange to hear someone call him by his first name, but when Keith does it, he doesn't mind so much. “Yes, Keith?”

 

Keith blushes faintly. It's cute, even with tear tracks on his cheeks and his eyes red from crying. “Can we… stay here for a bit? Like this? I mean,” he adds quickly, “if you just want to go to bed or something, I can move, but-”

 

“It's okay,” Shiro interrupts. “I'm happy to stay here for as long as you need. Just move for a second so I can change position? My legs are going numb.”

 

Keith nods and moves away from Shiro's side. Shiro untucks his legs from under him and stretches them out in front of him instead. “Okay,” he says. He pats his lap impulsively. “You can sit here, if you like.” He's undoubtably blushing, but Keith is too, so they're even, at least. 

 

“I- Okay,” Keith mumbles. He edges back over and hesitantly settles on Shiro's thighs, leaning against his chest. “Is this… okay?”

 

“It's fine,” Shiro assures him. It's perfect, in fact. Keith's weight and warmth against him feels achingly familiar and incredibly nice. He feels like this isn't a new thing for them, though he can't remember doing it before-

 

Except he sort of does at the same time. It's a distant recollection, like looking through a long tunnel that he can barely make out the end of, but he thinks that maybe they've done this before. Back then they were smiling and laughing, and Shiro's hair was black and he had both arms and the memory brings a distant warmth to his chest, followed by a sort of deep-seated fondness for the boy in his arms. “…Keith, baby?” he asks quietly. 

 

“Mm?” Keith is already drifting off again, blinking lazily as he slides into a doze. “What is it, Takashi?” His old Korean accent resurfaces slightly in his half-asleep state, just enough to colour his words, and Shiro _remembers_  that from those few perfect days before the Kerberos mission when Keith would drift off in Shiro's room, in his arms. 

 

“We were… together, weren't we?” he asks slowly, hoping both that he's wrong and that he isn't. If he's wrong, then he'll be very embarrassed when Keith wakes up fully, but if he isn't… If he isn't, that means they were dating when he was captured, when news reached Earth, when the Garrison said he was dead. And the thought of how much pain that must have caused Keith is almost too much to bear. 

 

“Uh huh,” Keith says sleepily. “Took you long enough…” It's kind of adorable how little he reacts. He must be really tired. 

 

Shiro gently tips Keith's face up to meet his gaze. “Look at me, baby.” 

 

“Mm?” Keith blinks once or twice, seeming to wake up a little more. “Takashi?”

 

Shiro's hand moves from Keith's chin to the back of his neck. His eyes slide down to Keith's soft, slightly chapped lips. “Is this okay?” he checks. 

 

Keith nods faintly, eyes wide and fixed on Shiro's, and Shiro leans down and kisses him. It's exactly like he remembers, gentle and warm and so, so perfect. He strokes his thumb along Keith's jawline as he pulls away, watching Keith's eyes flutter open. They're a strange, beautiful shade of purple, he notes. He didn't think it was possible for humans to have purple eyes, but Keith has always been special, after all. “I love you,” he murmurs against Keith's lips. 

 

“I love you, too,” Keith replies. “I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner…”

 

“I'm sorry I forgot,” Shiro says. “I'm sorry I only remembered just now. I'm so sorry I made you wait, baby.”

 

“It's okay,” Keith says, settling more comfortably against Shiro's chest and looking up at him adoringly. He's not sure he deserves that much love and affection, but Keith is offering it, so he'll take it. Keith stretches sleepily against him, yawning. 

 

“Tired?” Shiro asks. 

 

“Mm.” Keith blinks up at him. “I should probably go to bed…”

 

“Stay,” Shiro says. “I'll wake you in a bit.”

 

“Okay.” Keith nuzzles a little further into his chest, eyes closing slowly. “Love you, Takashi.”

 

“Love you, baby,” Shiro replies. As Keith drifts off, he carefully gathers up his knife and jacket, slipping the knife into its sheath and tossing the jacket over his shoulder. Once Keith is fully asleep, he stands slowly, cradling him in his arms, and heads for the door, turning off the lights as he goes. 

 

He said he'd wake Keith, but he looks so comfortable and content that he can't bring himself to do it. He doesn't know the code for Keith's door, so he brings him into his own room and lays him on the bed. When he steps back, Keith rolls over to face him and makes little grabby motions, stirring slightly. “Mm… Come back,” he mumbles.

 

Shiro turns the light off, then slides the bed beside Keith. It's a little cramped with two people, but Keith sighs contentedly and nuzzles into Shiro's side, and he finds he doesn't really mind the lack of space. 

 

There are no more nightmares that night. 


	7. Day 7: Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess whose internet went down over the weekend? I swear this was done on time.

They're inside his mind, all the time. Shiro doesn't know what to do. These aliens–Galra–have abilities he could only dream of before now. Matt and Sam were sent to some work camp or another. At least they don't have to fight in the arena, but who knows what's happening to them out there?

 

They scare him. They can see everything he thinks and feels, though they haven't managed to completely break through his defenses yet. It's only a matter of time, he thinks. Eventually they'll get through and find everything. The Garrison's forces, what defences Earth could muster against an alien attack–not enough, not nearly enough–and Keith. _Keith_. He can't imagine what they would do with that information. They want entertainment, warriors they can break to their will and force to fight in their arena. Keith is fierce and bold and the best combatant Shiro has ever seen, all fire and agility. They would take him, and they would torture him the way they've tortured Shiro, and the thought of that is almost enough to break him. If they find Keith through him, he'll never forgive himself. 

 

How can he stop them? That's the real question. He tries so hard not to think of Keith, not to let them feel the love and adoration he feels whenever he looks at his… best friend? Boyfriend? They never really clarified what they are. It's hard to do, when he thinks of Keith all the time. In his cell, he remembers the warmth of his smile and the brilliant gleam that lit his deep purple eyes whenever they sparred. Keith is beautiful and graceful, quick to anger but surprisingly quick to forgive as well, impulsive and reckless and often stuck in a self-destructive nosedive, but so, so perfect all the same. 

 

Shiro likes remembering those days when their friendship was strong and warm with mutual affection, even if it was soured slightly by his pining for the younger man. He likes thinking of the days when his biggest concerns were making sure Keith didn't get into too many fights and dragging him from his studies and training to make sure he had three meals every day. He hopes Keith has found someone else to keep an eye on him, even if the thought of being replaced aches. He remembers the early days, when they barely knew each other and he occasionally checked in only to find out that Keith hadn't eaten in three days and hadn't slept in two and was practically falling asleep on his feet but somehow still managed to fly the simulator without crashing, and he prays that there's someone taking care of him. 

 

  
_Keith, Keith, Keith…_  He traces the name into the palm of his hand over and over, his eyes closed as he pictures Keith's face. Keith once told him that he got his father's eyes in his mother's face, and Shiro can see it. Keith's features are delicate, almost feminine, and his eyes are large and framed by long, thick lashes. He's so beautiful, and just picturing him makes Shiro want to hold him and kiss him. After their first kiss Keith had looked at him with his eyes wide and the sweetest smile on his face, looking for all the world like all his dreams had come true. Shiro would give anything to see that smile again. 

 

He wonders what Keith is doing. He's sad, probably, but Shiro hopes he's moving past it. He would rather see Keith forget him entirely than be miserable for any length of time. Keith hardly ever cries, but when he does it's heartbreaking. Even if it's nothing to do with Shiro, it always makes him feel like he kicked a basket of puppies off a cliff. Right now he's stuck in the uncomfortable position of simultaneously wanting and not wanting Keith to miss him, which is even worse. He doesn't _want_  Keith to forget him; he wants the person he loves most in the world to remember him always. At the same time, he could never want anything that would make Keith unhappy, which remembering him almost certainly will. 

 

He misses him so much. More than any other part of the Garrison or life on Earth, he misses those lazy days spent talking on the roof or desperately trying to muffle their laughter while he attempted to help Keith study in the library. Their study sessions always seemed to end in helpless laughter and the librarian sending them stern looks in an attempt to silence them. Keith's eyes would seem to glow in amusement and his shoulders would shake with suppressed laughter. They'd inevitably end up returning to Shiro's room long after curfew, and only Shiro's rank and reputation kept them out of trouble. It was usually too late for Keith to return to his own room without waking his roommate, so they'd both curl up in Shiro's bed, Keith's head on his chest. When the next day was a day off, they'd stay awake until the early hours of the morning, talking and laughing. Keith's laugh is clear and bright and filled with a deep-seated warmth, and Shiro really wants to hear it even one more time. 

 

What would Keith say, if he were here? _"Don't worry, Takashi. Everything is gonna be fine, right? We'll think of something.”_  Yes, that sounds about right. Keith's faith in their abilities is matched only by his stubborn courage and impulsiveness. He trusts Shiro absolutely, and Shiro tries as hard as he can to be worthy of that trust. He remembers the look on Keith's face when they first met, the wariness and discomfort that made his young face seem far too old, and hopes that he's getting by okay on Earth. 

 

Keith was fifteen the first time they met, he recalls. He was slender and agile then, too, and being chased by a couple Garrison recruits. Shiro, naturally, had stepped in. He'd grabbed Keith by the collar, halted the recruits with an outstretched hand, and managed to drag out the story with some effort, all the while pinning Keith's arms at his side as the boy struggled fiercely. The recruits had sounded embarrassed as they explained that Keith had very neatly made off with their wallets and Garrison IDs, and refused to explain how, exactly, he had managed that when the IDs were kept in a special pocket designed specifically to make it impossible to get into without the wearer noticing. Shiro had his suspicions. 

 

Once Shiro had heard the story, he let go of one of Keith's arms and very politely asked him to return what he'd stolen. Instead, Keith had drawn his knife and tried to stab him. Shiro thanked his quick reflexes and the awkward angle for the fact that Keith had only gotten his shirt, scraping the skin underneath but not cutting it. Needless to say, he decided to find the wallets and IDs himself after that. 

 

“Back pockets,” Keith had grudgingly told him when asked, apparently unconcerned by the awkwardness of a complete stranger reaching into his pockets and rooting around. Sure enough, Shiro had found the stolen items, along with an additional thirty dollars which probably didn't belong to Keith but he left anyway. The second he reached out to hand them back, Keith had twisted free of his grip and run off. 

 

It was a year later that Shiro convinced him to join the Garrison. They had met on and off, Shiro bringing food and warm clothes while Keith offered little tidbits of information about his life, and they had gotten close enough that Shiro had wanted the boy to have somewhere warm and safe to stay where he could learn useful skills. Keith said yes, surprisingly, and passed all necessary tests with flying colours. Shiro had been so proud. 

 

He's still proud even now, sitting in this uncomfortable Galra cell with half a dozen other prisoners. Keith is a genius in the cockpit, and although he hates working with anyone but Shiro he's surprisingly good at giving orders. His team, from what Shiro has heard, don't particularly like him, but they respect him, and trust him to get them through the sims without difficulty. When he and Shiro work together in sims, which they sometimes do during free period, Keith easily falls into the role of first officer, obeying every order Shiro gives with a respectful obedience that Shiro has never seen him offer anyone else. He's insubordinate and disrespectful towards every other officer in the Garrison, of course, and "discipline issues" would be putting it mildly, but Shiro is proud all the same. 

 

He loves Keith so, so much, which brings his thoughts back to the problem at hand. How can he keep the Galra from realising that he would tell them anything if it meant protecting Keith? How can Shiro keep him safe?

 

“Excuse me, Champion?” says an odd, blubbery voice. He can't see who's talking; they're standing in the darkest part of the shadows, and all he can see is a vague outline that reminds him of a slug. “You seem to have something on your mind.”

 

Shiro sighs. “You could say that,” he admits. He glances around to make sure no guards are nearby. “There's someone… very important to me back on Earth, and I was just worrying about what the Galra would do to him if they found out about him.”

 

“Your mate?” the alien asks knowingly. When Shiro starts, blushing, they make a sound that makes him think of laughter. “Ah, I thought so. You fear for him?”

 

Shiro nods. “I would die before I let anyone hurt him, but there won't be anything I can do from here. If the Galra hurt him because of me…” He cuts himself off, not wanting to think about it. 

 

“I may be able to help,” the alien says thoughtfully. “My people can hide memories, you see. I could make you forget he is anything but a friend to you. The Galra don't care about friendship, but they understand the bond of mates. They will harm yours in order to hurt you if they find him.”

 

“I'm not sure mate is the right word for him,” Shiro says. Even as he says it, he knows it's not true. It might not be a term they use on Earth, but it fits, somehow, in a way that nothing else seems to. “…Do it.”

 

A long, slimy, blue tentacle emerges from the shadows. “You will have no memory of your relationship or this conversation after I am through, but contact with your mate will slowly bring back the memories of everything hidden away today. Until then, as far as you will be aware he is only a good friend. Give me your hand, Champion.”

 

Shiro slowly reaches out and offers the sluglike alien his hand. _‘I love you, Keith,’_  he thinks. _‘Always, even if I don't remember it. I love you. I'm sorry. This is for your sake. I love you, baby.’_  


 

Then the world goes white, and Shiro forgets. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now then, what next? It's either Howl's Moving Castle AU or prostitute AU with Galra Keith, because why the fuck not. I don't know, let me know which you'd like to see first.


	8. October Day 1: Hurt/comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm on time for this one! Not happy with how it turned out, but at least I'm on time.

_Ten and a half months ago…_

 

  
_I love you,_  Shiro had said. _I love you, I love you, I love you._  


 

Keith hadn't been able to return it, and that is the worst part. Shiro had gone out to the shuttle and left and he would never come back, and Keith hadn't even been able to say-

 

Even now. Even now, he can't say it, even to himself. He knows that he _does_ , but he can't say it. He can't- _Shiro. Takashi. I…_  


 

Shiro had smiled and touched Keith's cheek. “It's okay,” he'd said. “I understand.” Then he'd kissed Keith so gently and headed out to the shuttle. And now Keith might never see him again. 

 

_Yes I will. He's not dead, he's not, he can't be…_

 

Six months, two weeks, and three days since that morning. Just over a month and a half since news reached the Garrison, maybe a little more than that since the shuttle went down. A month and a half. He doesn't even know what happened to Shiro, even after all his questions. Pilot error… No. Does Iverson think he's an idiot? Shiro never crashes, ever. Not even in the sims. He's definitely better than Keith is, whatever he says. Just because everyone else fell for it doesn't mean he will. No, they're hiding something. He'll find Shiro. He will. He has to, because…

 

  
_I… love you,_  he thinks. _I…_  


 

He owes him, anyway. Owes him so much. Shiro _saved_  him. Every day, every time. Brought him here, guided him, honed his skills to a knife's edge. If it weren't for Shiro, he'd still be starving in an alley, praying that the stronger thieves and murderers didn't find him. If it weren't for Shiro, he'd still be alone. If it weren't for Shiro…

 

He never meant to get so attached. He doesn't want it, he doesn't want this. He loved it when Shiro was there; he'd forgotten why he didn't let himself get close. Now, though…

 

This is why, he remembers. His heart aches just thinking of Shiro, even a month later. He feels… hollow, almost. Cut adrift, certainly. The words for how he feels don't come easily to him. That was always Shiro's thing, the easy words. Shiro would know what was happening. Hell, if their situations were reversed, Shiro would probably be perfectly fine. Shiro wasn't like him. Isn't like him, he reminds himself. Shiro is coming home, him and Matt, and Dr. Holt, too. Keith just has to wait, right?

 

They'll come home. 

 

_Nine months ago…_

 

How long has he been here?

 

Shiro really can't remember. The gash on his face aches, the others slowly turning to scars. He has to reach up occasionally to wipe blood off his face, but he's fine otherwise. Not as bad as he sometimes is. 

 

Are Matt and Sam okay? He hopes so. Surely on a work ship they'll be okay, right? Better than he is here?

 

They're going to kill him, he thinks, ignoring the chill that runs through him at the thought. They'll kill him, and then what? They'll conquer Earth eventually. The Galra are fierce fighters, strong and skilled and confident. As much as he hates it, they're a little like Keith. It's the same abrasive confidence, the same assured skill. But Keith isn't like them, he's kind and warm and so sweet, in his own way-

 

If they conquer Earth, what happens- No, he's already thought about this. Keith will be fine, he'll adapt like he always does to everything, the way he adapted to Shiro and the Garrison. He'll adjust to the Galra the same way he adjusted to the systematic bullying of the cadet barracks. Of course, eventually he'll react the same way he did then: He'll snap, let his anger explode with all the force and beauty of a supernova. That's the scary part, of course; the Galra will tear apart even him, with resources he could never beat and forces far superior to any one man, even if it's Keith. 

 

There are footsteps–pawsteps? Whatever–in the corridor outside. Oh, god. They're coming for him again. Oh god, no. 

 

How long will it be?

 

_Eight months ago…_

 

If he's going down, Keith decides, he'll do it in a blaze of glory. 

 

The Garrison will kick him out soon anyway. His grades are slipping, his attitude is getting worse, he can hear the whispers behind his back and the snide comments they don't bother to silence. He's losing it, caught in desperation and hope that–though it hurts to admit it–dies a little more every day. 

 

It's that cargo pilot that provides the tipping point, his comments stinging no matter how hard Keith tries to block him out. “Guess it's no surprise,” he says, shooting Keith a sidelong smirk, “seeing as it was only Shiro's influence keeping him in the fighter program to begin with.”

 

Keith has heard similar things his entire time in the Garrison. Before he could shove it off, but now… It aches somewhere deep in his chest, the thought that he's so helpless without Shiro by his side. Shiro, whose fate he still doesn't know. 

 

An idea pops into his head, and he acts without thinking, stepping into the cargo pilot's space to grab his wrist. He twists the arm up behind the taller boy's back and curls a foot around his ankle, simultaneously yanking his legs out from under him and moving his grip up to the cargo pilot's upper arm to drag it up and out in a single sharp tug. The combination of Keith's adjustment to his arm's position and his full body weight hanging from his shoulder yanks the joint out of its socket with a satisfying pop. 

 

The cargo pilot howls, grabbing at his dislocated shoulder, and his big, nice friend makes a horrified squeaking sound. One of the other cadets runs off, presumably to get Iverson. It's more loyalty than any of them have ever shown him, and for a moment he wonders what this bratty, mediocre cargo pilot has that he doesn't. He shakes off the thought, dropping the cargo pilot–Lance, isn't it?–at his feet and crouches beside him. “Never say anything like that again,” he says calmly. “Got it?”

 

“G-got it!” Lance squeaks. “Seriously, man, was that necessary?!”

 

Keith shrugs. Really, it's two years of frustration and possibly jealousy coming to a head all at once, leading to a petty response. Really, it's just to get Iverson's attention. 

 

A hand grabs his shoulder and yanks him around, before closing on his collar and dragging him off the ground. Keith, trapped in an eery calm, allows his eyes to run over the commander. Ah- there. His keycard, hanging off his belt. What an idiot, leaving it in plain sight. Lucky for Keith, though. He brings his hands up to grab at Iverson's wrist, using the motion to snag the keycard off his belt and hide it up his sleeve. “What the Sam Hill are you doing, cadet?!” Iverson snarls. 

 

“Dislocating this cadet's arm, sir,” Keith says, waving his hand on Lance's direction. He slides his hand into his pocket. Lucky him, Matt got his little sister to make a keycard replicator-thing for Keith's seventeenth birthday. He's not sure how it works, but he can use it to download a digital copy of Iverson's keycard and upload its clearance level to his own card. He's been wanting the commander's clearance for a while now, anyway. “Couldn't you see that? Sir?”

 

“Why would you-?” Iverson cuts himself off with a groan. In Keith's pocket, the machine buzzes. It's done. As Iverson drops him, Keith pretends to lose his balance and stumble forward, catching himself against the man and replacing the keycard with a quick twist of his fingers. He's in, and Iverson is none the wiser. 

 

Keith fakes innocent confusion. “Should I not have done that, sir?”

 

Iverson raises a hand as if to slap him, and Keith flinches against his will. Iverson sighs. “Come to my office, 1900 hours.”

 

“Yessir.” Keith salutes crisply as the commander walks off, a little smirk curling his lips. All he needs now is an opportunity. 

 

It comes a week later, just after curfew. Iverson is sick with some sort of stomach bug, one of the officers mentioned, and they should really know better than to say things like that in his hearing. Once curfew sounds, he pulls on Shiro's officer's jacket–far too big for him, but hopefully no one will notice–and puts his upgraded keycard in the pocket. As he sneaks through the halls, he thinks. If he's caught, that's it for him; he'll be booted for sure. No amount of talent will save him if he's caught in the commander's office, looking through his files. He's honestly surprised that Iverson kept him after he _deliberately attacked another cadet without provocation or warning_ , but apparently they still want him. He's screwed if he's caught. 

 

It's worth it. If he can find anything, _anything_ , it's worth it. If nothing else, it's a memorable way to go out. 

 

He's lucky again. No one looks twice at him, hair neatly tied back, head down, the sleeves of his oversized jacket rolled up as inconspicuously as possible. He makes it into Iverson's office easily. 

 

See, he knows he can't get into Iverson's computer. He's no hacker. But one of the Garrison's secrets is that the commanders all keep paper copies of their files in a hidden room in their office. He checked the map he was given when he first arrived quite often, and on one of his many trips to the commander's office, he realised the square footage didn't add up. Couldn't, really. It's only a matter of finding a way in. 

 

In the end, he just pries at one of the panels on a hunch, and it swings open easily. Maybe he unlocked it somehow, maybe Iverson was counting on his security system. Didn't expect Keith to steal his clearance, did he? Keith creeps in, pulling the door closed behind him, and- oh. That's why the door wasn't locked. 

 

Iverson is seated in a chair, fast asleep, a file in his lap. Keith has a feeling he knows which one, and sure enough, when he looks it's the Kerberos file. Keith reaches out very, very carefully, and pulls it from Iverson's lap. The commander stirs briefly and Keith freezes until he stills again, then steps back and sits on the floor to read through the file. Most of it is routine stuff; maintenance logs, launch reports, regular transmissions. Then he reaches the last page. FAILED is stamped across the top in red ink. Keith reads over this page especially thorough. _Crew lost, shuttle lost, data lost, mission failed. Cause of failure: unknown_. Below is the final transmission from the Kerberos shuttle. Keith slowly raises his phone and takes a picture. It doesn't make any sense, strange, garbled words that Keith can almost understand. It's no human language, that's for sure. 

 

It's only as he's sliding the file back onto Iverson's lap that he makes the obvious connection. _Aliens?_  He can't hold back the little gasp he makes at the thought, and Iverson's eyes snap open. 

 

He's booted with little fanfare, only the excuse of _discipline issues_  and a flash of his file. It's enough, and all Keith has is his clothes, Shiro's clothes, and what few important belongings he has. His knife, the gifts Matt and Shiro gave him over the years, and Shiro's hoverbike. It's in his possession, technically, and the Garrison will just give it to some other officer if he doesn't take it. He's gone by dawn. 

 

_Seven months ago…_

 

They call him Champion, and he knows that they'll never kill him now. 

 

Shiro prays for his friends, his family, his planet. The Galra are terrifying in their power, and all he can do is pray. 

 

God, it hurts. It hurts. He clings to thoughts of home that invariably turn to Keith, blazing violet eyes and jet-black hair, pale skin and a bright laugh and a sharp voice. Conversations switching from Japanese to Korean and back again. Keith used to laugh warmly at his Korean, before chattering away in near-fluent Japanese. His stepfather was Japanese and taught him, he'd confided once, one of the little tidbits that Shiro treasures even here. He remembers walking into his room and being greeted by Keith's soft voice-

 

_“Okaeri.”_

 

_“Tadaima.”_

 

“Tadaima,” he mutters every time he enters the cell, in the faint hope of opening his eyes to his room in the Garrison and Keith's bright smile. In the ring, he imagines Keith's exhortations from their spars. _“Come on, Takashi, hurry up, keep up, you can do better than that, speed it up, you're so much stronger than me-”_  


 

Keith. What's he doing back on Earth? Is he doing well? Is he happy? If Keith is happy, Shiro thinks, he can survive anything. His pain doesn't matter, as long as Keith is happy, because Keith is-

 

Keith is-

 

He can't remember. He's forgetting something. It's important, but he can't- His memory is slipping, he thinks in a panic, a haze like smoke seeming to fill the room, then-

 

He's fine. Must have been dreaming. 

 

_K e i t h  i s -_

 

_W h o ?_

 

_Six months ago…_

 

Keith lives alone in the desert, and it's fine. He's in the desert, and it's fine. He's _alone_ , and he's-

 

He's fine, right? He has to be fine. Shiro will be upset if he's not fine. So he's fine, of course he is, even if he's alone and he forgets to eat, to sleep, he's falling apart at the seams combing the desert for something he doesn't know and can't picture he wakes up screaming most nights and Takeshi isn't there to comfort him and he just knows Takashi's suffering because he feels it in his bones and he promised never to leave Keith alone but he did and he's alone he's alone _he's alone_ -

 

And he's perfectly fine. There's something out there calling him, and he's fine. He hears Shiro's voice in his dreams and wakes alone, and he's fine. He's _all alone_  in the _desert_  and he's _fine_. 

 

_I love you, I love you, I love you._

 

Maybe it's stupid, or childish. Even so, he still whispers “Tadaima” when he walks in. It's habit and frantic hope and resignation instead of greeting, but he can't seem to make himself stop. He feels Takashi's presence behind him only to see nothing behind him when he turns. When that happens he finds himself trembling uncontrollably, feeling as though Takashi just vanished abruptly, like he would have been there if Keith had been just a little faster. Little whimpers break through his lips and sometimes he crumples to his knees and stays there for hours. Takashi's moms message him and call him, but he can never bring himself to answer, however kind they are. 

 

_Come and see us soon._

 

_We miss you._

 

_You know we see you as our son too, right?_

 

_Keith?_

 

_Please answer._

 

_We're worried about you._

 

_Please, Keith._

 

_We love you._

 

Takeshi said that too, and he left. Getting attached is too risky, too dangerous. They'll leave. They'll hurt him. Don't get attached. Don't trust. And above all, never fall in love. 

 

He's fine. 

 

_Five months ago…_

 

“Okaeri,” The Voice coos as Shiro falls into his cell, his new arm blazing with pain. 

 

“Ta…Tadaima,” he gasps, curling around the limb. He doesn't want to talk, but he always answers The Voice. He doesn't want The Voice to worry about him, after all. The Voice is the only one who cares about him, and he cares about The Voice in return. 

 

“You're hurt, Takashi,” The Voice says. He–Shiro has decided The Voice is a he–sounds concerned. Ah. So Shiro can't even keep The Voice from worrying about him. 

 

“I'm fine,” he groans, ignoring the whispers of the guards outside. _"Hear the Champion talking to himself? Lost it for sure this time.”_  


 

“I'm fine,” The Voice echoes. “That's my lie, Takashi. You have to find your own.”

 

A feather-light brush against his skin. The briefest flicker of worried violet eyes. It's the closest he gets to seeing what the perfect voice looks like. “I'll manage,” he says weakly. 

 

“No you won't,” The Voice retorts. “But that's okay, because I'm right here. I'm right here, Takashi. I-” He stops, like he can't make himself continue, although he wants to. Shiro can tell he wants to. 

 

“I understand,” he says, because he does. 

 

_I love you, I love you, I love you-_

 

_Four months ago…_

 

Keith practices his punches on an upright piece of wood until his hands are battered and bleeding. He doesn't bother wrapping them, takes his gloves off so he doesn't get blood on them. They were a sixteenth birthday present from Shiro's parents, and he loves them. He only takes them off when he's doing something messy. 

 

It's his birthday, and he comes inside to find two messages waiting for him. The first is from Shiro's moms, short and to the point: _Happy birthday, Keith. We've wired two thousand dollars into your account as our gift. We would have bought you more books, but… you don't seem to have an address. Come visit us, and we'll go to that bookstore you like, okay? We love you._  It's a generous gift, but he can't make himself respond even to thank them. 

 

It's the second that makes him freeze up, though. It's an automated alert, set a couple days before the Kerberos mission left. _Hey, baby. I'm probably back by now and giving you my gift in person, but just in case of unforeseen delays, I recorded this for you. My gift is in the black duffel bag I told you not to open. Remember the one?_  He does. He brought it with him, but didn't open it even after the mission was lost. _I hope you like it. Happy birthday. I love you, baby._  


 

Keith moves as if in a dream, opening the duffel and pulling out a package wrapped in bright red paper. There's a little note on top:

 

_I hope you like this. It seemed like your style, but if it isn't we'll go shopping together later, okay?_

_-Takashi_

 

Keith slowly pulls apart the paper, finding a short red and white leather jacket. It's gorgeous, and exactly his size. He pulls it tight around him, and stays kneeling beside the empty bag for quite some time after, silent tears running down his cheeks. 

 

He stirs at the brush of fingers against his shoulder. When he turns there's no one there, but Takashi's voice whispers “I love you, baby.”

 

Is he hallucinating now? He can't make himself care, Takashi's voice gentle in his ears. 

 

_Three months ago…_

 

“Takashi. 

 

“Takashi. 

 

“Takashi!”

 

The Voice sounds frantic, and Shiro forces himself upright. “Mm… Yeah?”

 

“You have to escape, Takashi,” The Voice says. “Escape home. I'm waiting, Takashi. Takashi, come home to me. Please. Takashi!”

 

Home? Yes, home. His moms are waiting for him. The Voice… “I can see you there…?”

 

“Yes, Takashi.” He sounds amused and exasperated. “Come back now. Don't you think I've been waiting long enough? Come home.”

 

Shiro nods. Home. He can go home, can't he? Just like back at the Garrison, sneaking past the guards. He can do it. He can…

 

_Two months ago…_

 

He's coming home. 

 

Keith feels it. There's an arrival coming, and he just _knows_  that it's something to do with Shiro. Maybe Matt too, and Dr. Holt, but definitely Shiro. He's coming home for sure, he has to be coming home. Takashi is coming back to him. Takashi is…

 

_I love you, I love you, I love you._

 

He'll say it this time. He will, for sure. Once Takashi is back, he'll say it. When Takashi gets back, they can work everything out together, can't they? As long as he has Takashi, everything is easy to deal with. He's fine as long as he has Takashi. Really, he is. 

 

He's fine. He's fine. He's fine. 

 

Soon now. Takashi will be back soon, and he's nearly cracked the lion drawings, and he's remembering to eat and sleep, and he's fine. 

 

_One month ago…_

 

Shiro slips past the droids with his heart in his throat. They could easily kill him if they wanted to, if they catch him. He ducks down a side corridor as another pair walk past, eyes closing instinctively, his hand rising to muffle his breathing. 

 

“You're okay,” The Voice murmurs. “Nearly there, Takashi. Nearly there.” He follows the whispers to the escape pod he chose a month ago and pulls himself in, closing it behind him. It's lit by a dull violet glow, and Shiro has to shut his eyes for a moment, blocking it out. He feels the phantom touch of The Voice's hand against his shoulder, lips against his cheek, and guns the ignition. 

 

The pod roars out into the universe, set on a course for home. 

 

_Last night…_

 

Keith is running on adrenaline and coffee when he finds Shiro. His hands shake faintly as he slices open the straps, and when _fucking Lance_  and his buddies show up, he's not sure if he wants to slit their throats or burst into tears. He needs the help, though, so he allows Lance to grab one of Shiro's arms and lets the three of them hop onto Shiro's hoverbike with him. They get to crash in his living room while he lugs Shiro into his bedroom, carefully dropping the man onto the bed and kneeling on the floor beside him. 

 

“Dammit, Takashi,” he mutters, pressing his forehead against the bed. “What the hell happened out there?”

 

No answer, of course. Shiro is still out cold, but just having him here… He's alive. He's _alive_. Keith slaps his hand over his mouth just in time to muffle a weak sob. His vision blurs with tears of joy. Takashi is _here_  and _alive_. No sign of Matt, but that's a problem for another time. For now, he has Shiro, missing arm and scars and white hair and all. It's enough. 

 

Keith sits up and leans over, brushing his lips over Shiro's as softly as he can. “I love you,” he whispers. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” Then he stands and moves to sit against the wall. 

 

He's still watching Shiro when his eyes fall shut. 

 

_Now_

 

Shiro wakes to an unknown room; never a good start. He vaguely remembers the night before. It was a rough landing, and the Garrison snapped him up right after. Is he in one of their facilities? And The Voice was supposed to be with him. Someone should be with him. Where is he?

 

His breathing goes sharp and rough as he sits up, glancing around the room. Where the hell is he? This is far too low-tech to be the Garrison, so where is he?!

 

“Takashi!” The Voice calls. He sounds closer now. Shiro looks over and sees him for the first time. Jet-black hair framing a pale face, wide violet eyes watching him in concern. He's wrapped in a jacket Shiro vaguely remembers buying. It was a gift… right? For someone important. Those lovely violet eyes blink down at him. “Takashi, it's okay! You're safe now! You're back on Earth, I'm right here, everything's okay! Come on, say something, please!” 

 

Shiro knows him. Knows him well. He remembers…

 

  
_Violet eyes both cold and loving, voice as sharp as the knife he keeps under his pillow as he sleeps, dark hair rumpled and eyes hazy with sleep, temper flaring as he responds to one of Matt's jokes, his entire being blazing like fire-_  Yes. 

 

“…Keith.”

 

Keith nods quickly, eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “Takashi,” he whispers. “Takashi, _Takashi_ -”

 

“You… saved me?” Shiro asks. 

 

Keith nods again. “I had to,” he says. “Always.” He holds out a hand as Shiro starts to get up. “A few Garrison cadets… 'helped',” he adds, voice filled with distaste. “They crashed in my living room. Just so you know.”

 

Shiro nods. “Thanks for letting me know,” he says. He doesn't even hesitate before reaching out to tousle Keith's hair, relishing in the younger man's soft laugh at the movement. Keith barely even keeps up the pretence of trying to stop him. Shiro stands and walks to the door, easing it open. Sure enough, there are three people sleeping in the room beyond, stretched over the floor, but Shiro ignores them in favour of heading out for some fresh air. 

 

“Takashi?” Keith calls softly as he opens the door. 

 

Shiro half turns to look at him. “What is it, buddy?”

 

Keith smiles at him. “I- Okaeri.” _Welcome home._  


 

Shiro smiles back. “Tadaima,” he replies. 

 

_I'm home._


	9. Day 2: Together/alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of language switching in this chapter. Just so it's clear, italics is Korean and bold is Japanese.

“ _Hey. Takashi._ ” He's speaking Korean again, Shiro notes with some irritation. Keith knows that Shiro is terrible at the language, the brat. “ _Why are you doing this?”_ At least he's speaking slowly enough that Shiro can keep up. 

 

“ _Doing what?”_ Shiro asks. His Korean sounds clumsy and awkward, especially compared to Keith's, but he does his best for his friend. 

 

“ _This,_ ” Keith repeats. “ _Helping me_.”

 

Footsteps sound as another officer walks past the training room. Shiro sits up straight until they fade away, then goes back to slouching against the wall. “ _Because you deserve all the help you need?”_ he suggests. “ _Because I care about you?”_  


 

Keith snickers. “You're so bad at this,” he says in English. “Say that again in a language you actually speak.”

 

Shiro switches to Japanese. “ **I just want to help you,** ” he says. “ **You're important to me, Keith- Don't give me that look, it's true!** ”

 

Keith just raises his eyebrow a little higher. “ **Yeah, right,** ” he snorts. “ **No I'm not.** ”

 

That's just- No, he can't let Keith talk like that. “ **Yes you are,** ” he insists. “ **Would I allow just anyone to share my room?** ”

 

“ **Well, there's Matt-** ”

 

“ **And my bed?** ” Shiro adds quickly. “ **I don't let Matt do that.** ”

 

Keith flushes at the reminder of the many nights he's crept nervously over to Shiro's side of the room and stood beside the bed until Shiro sleepily raised the covers in invitation. It's gotten to the point where Shiro invites him in before he turns the lights out. “ **Sh-shut up! That's not- Why would you say it like that where people can hear you?! The rumours are bad enough as it is!** ”

 

“ **I'm pretty sure the other cadets aren't fluent in Japanese,** ” Shiro points out. Keith stammers a few more syllables before falling into an embarrassed silence. 

 

“ **Shut up, Takashi.** ”

 

Shiro grins. “ **Hey, Keith.** ”

 

“ **Yeah?** ”

 

“ **We'll always stick together, right?** ”

 

A faint blush colours Keith's cheeks at his words. Shiro allows himself a moment to enjoy how _cute_  the boy looks like that before feeling very ashamed of himself for thinking such a thing about a _cadet_. “ **…Always.** ”

 

* * *

 

When Keith wakes, still trembling from his dream, he's alone. Shiro was with him when he fell asleep, but now his side of the bed is cold and empty. He sits up slowly, half convinced that he's still dreaming. “Takashi?” Silence. “Takashi?! Answer me, dammit! Takashi!” He's alone. Takashi left, he's _alone_ - 

 

“Keith!” Hands curl around his own trembling ones. “Hey, it's okay. I'm here. _I'm right here. You're not alone_.”

 

Keith detachedly notes the change in languages and glances up, eyes fixing first on wet black hair, then on concerned grey eyes. “T-Takashi?” He winces internally at the way his voice wavers in uncertainty. 

 

“Yeah,” Takashi murmurs. He reaches out to brush a wet hand against Keith's cheek. “Sorry. I forgot-”

 

  
_Forgot what you get like when you're alone. Forgot that I can't just disappear like that. Forgot-_  “It's okay,” Keith whispers. He hates this; how scared he gets when he wakes alone, the relief that floods him when someone comes and finds him, all of it. He hates it so much. 

 

“It's not,” Takashi insists. “I should have remembered. I'm sorry.”

 

Keith leans back from Takashi's touch, and only then notices the fact that his friend is dripping water onto the floor. And also naked. Keith squeaks and shuts his eyes. “Put some clothes on!”

 

Takashi chuckles awkwardly. “Sorry! I was just getting out of the shower when I heard you. I'll just, uh-” Keith hears him stand and walk off, and only opens his eyes again when he hears the bathroom door click shut. He can feel his cheeks blazing. _Shirogane Takashi_  was _naked_  less than a foot from him!

 

  
_And I didn't even look!_  half of him mourns. The other half is too busy being horribly embarrassed. _Stupid, Kogane! Always take the chance to see him naked!_  He feels kind of bad about that last thought, however true it may be. Shiro is his _friend_ , after all. No more, no less. He doesn't want to risk that on a stupid crush. 

 

The door opens again while he is berating himself. Shiro steps out, fully dressed and slightly flushed. From the shower, probably. “Uh, sorry,” he says. “To be honest, I didn't even realise I was…”

 

“Naked?” Keith asks. “No, uh, it's- it's fine. No problem. At all. Shit, I'm embarrassing myself, aren't I?”

 

“A little,” Shiro admits with a little chuckle. “Hey… you okay now?”

 

Keith nods. “I'm fine. Sorry for worrying you.”

 

Shiro tousles his hair gently. “I'd rather worry about you every second of every day than not know you were hurting until it was too late,” he says seriously. “Come on. Let's get some more sleep. I'll handle the instructors for you if you're late, okay?”

 

Keith stays awake long after Shiro's drifted off again, turning over those words in his head. 

 

* * *

 

They're together again, so why does he feel so alone?

 

Takashi sleeps in a separate room from him, sure, but Keith is used to that after the past year. They spend most waking hours together, and Takashi is never more than a comm. link away as far as Keith is concerned, so why does he still feel so… cut off?

 

It can't be because they're not dating now, can it? They were only together for a few days, after all, and Keith values their friendship more than that. Doesn't he? It's undeniable that those few days were the best of his life, but even so…

 

Another thing that's undeniable is that he wakes up trembling and gasping several times a week, whimpering Takashi's name before he can stop himself. He wants to wake up cradled in Takashi's arms, secure in the knowledge that he's loved. He wants to sleep surrounded by that warmth, feeling Takashi's firm chest against his back. He wants to feel secure enough to leave his knife on his belt, hanging off the bedside table. He wants to not feel _alone_. 

 

He's always been so alone, ever since his parents died. It was a long, hard way from his home in Seoul to the Garrison's base in Arizona, and he was alone for most of it. He remembers listening to the other cadets chattering about their families and their homes, remembers the sting of jealousy. But then there was Shiro and his moms, and he had a family, if only for a little while. Now, though… God, even surrounded by the Paladins, he's still so alone. He'd like to go back, he really would. 

 

Sometimes he wakes to the sound of Takashi screaming, and he wishes he was brave enough to go to him. But he's a coward. Always has been. Even now, he doesn't want to admit that Takashi is fallible. He can't accept that his Takashi could possibly be as damaged as Keith himself is. 

 

It'll be fine. Right? It's not like either of them are really alone. 

 

* * *

 

Shiro wakes alone every night, and there's something very wrong about that. He can't tell what it is, but something in his heart is convinced that something is missing. He's painfully aware of it. 

 

The days pass in easy camaraderie, filled with Pidge's smiles and Hunk's laughter, Lance's playful flirting and the gentle warmth of Keith's touch. He's comfortable with all of them together by now, enjoying the familiarity of their presence, always there like Black's touch against his mind. 

 

It's Keith's presence he enjoys the most, though. Shiro is convinced that he's forgotten something important, something linked to those warm violet eyes and small smiles. Keith is like an ever-present fire at his side, keeping his world warm and bright. When they're together, everything is perfect. 

 

Once his memories return, that familiarity makes sense. Keith is his and he is Keith's, so of course they're comfortable together. That first night curled up side by side in Shiro's bed is the best night's sleep he's had in ages, and judging by the radiance of Keith's smile and the bright awareness in his eyes it's the same for him. The others remark on it too, pleased with the change even if they don't know what caused it. Keith is shy and awkward, and he doesn't want to say anything for now. (He's so adorable when he asks, head bowed and cheeks flushed pink, that even if Shiro was ever capable of refusing him he wouldn't have been in that moment.)

 

It doesn't matter if the others know or not, anyway. As long as he and Keith are together, everything will be fine. 


	10. Day 3: Fight me/love me

The first time they meet, Shiro is breaking up one of Keith's many, many fights. The other kid darts off the second Shiro pulls them apart, but Keith…

 

There's no one else in the hall, and Keith whirls on Shiro and tries to punch him in the throat. Shiro catches the punch easily, of course, but he's still surprised by the force behind it; Keith is slender, and his big eyes and pretty features make him look almost fragile. Even so, Shiro has to use quite a bit of strength to block the punch. The way Keith moves lets him put his weight behind the punch in a way Shiro has never seen a first year cadet fight, and it's so surprising that he doesn't block the punch to his jaw. Judging by the way Keith winces and shakes out his hand, it does more damage to Keith than Shiro. 

 

Not wanting Keith to try it again and hurt himself even more, Shiro grabs his wrist and pins him against the wall, arm twisted behind his back. Keith hisses like a cat and squirms wildly, but Shiro holds him there until he stops fighting. “Go back to your room,” he says, “and I won't tell anyone about this.”

 

Keith turns his head to glare at Shiro. His eyes hold Shiro's focus, the strangest shade of deep purple and flashing with anger. “Fine,” he huffs. Shiro is half expecting him to lash out, but when he releases Keith's arm and steps back the younger boy just brushes past him.  

 

* * *

Shiro sees Keith in the halls now and then, but the younger cadet doesn't even acknowledge his presence until Shiro finds himself alone in the gym twenty minutes before lights out. He pulls away from the punching bag and receives a sharp kick to his back. When he turns, Keith is standing there, balanced easily on his feet. “Round two?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. Shiro grins and indulges him, knocking him to the floor and using his superior strength to pin him. 

 

Keith struggles valiantly until Shiro is afraid he's going to hurt himself, then abruptly goes limp. Shiro lets go instantly, terrified that he's done something awful- and Keith slides neatly out from under him and kicks Shiro in the chest, knocking him flat on his back. Shiro just lies there for a moment. “…You cheated,” he says eventually. 

 

“I fought by rules that gave me a chance at winning,” Keith corrects. “I could never beat you fighting by the Garrison's rules.”

 

It's almost a compliment. “I thought I might have hurt you.”

 

“You didn't.”

 

The calm assurance helps, though the offhand way Keith says it–cocky, confused, like he doesn't understand how Shiro could possibly think he'd been hurt–doesn't. “I'm glad.”

 

Keith stares at him for a moment, then shakes his head and walks out of the room without another word. 

 

* * *

 

The next time, Shiro doesn't bother trying to break up the fight peacefully. He just reaches out and hauls Keith off the other cadet, pinning him against the wall and gesturing for everyone else to clear out. He doesn't let go until the room is clear. 

 

Keith doesn't attack immediately, this time. He waits until Shiro turns around, having decided that the younger cadet isn't going to try anything, then kicks him in the back of the knee. 

 

“You're still cheating,” Shiro says as he catches his balance. 

 

Keith shrugs. “I'm still winning,” he says. 

 

Shiro sighs and walks away, not wanting to get into this again. He's tired and sore from training, and as entertaining as fighting with Keith can be, right now he just wants some sleep. 

 

“Hey!” He can hear Keith's footsteps behind him. “You're just gonna leave?”

 

Shiro nods without turning around. “I'm tired,” he says. “If you want a fight, go down to the training rooms and find a sparring partner.”

 

“I don't want a sparring partner!” Keith snaps. The words are quickly followed by the sound of someone's hand covering their mouth, and Shiro turns. Keith is flushed bright red, hand clapped over his lips as if he can take his words back. 

 

Shiro fights back the urge to sigh again. “Then what do you want?” he asks. It's petulant, he knows. 

 

“I- It's- Ugh, never mind!” Keith turns on his heel and storms off toward the cadet barracks. 

 

Shiro almost wants to follow him. 

 

* * *

 

Keith doesn't take Shiro's advice, doesn't make any effort to find a sparring partner. He does, however, make a habit of sneaking into the gym while Shiro is doing his workout and attacking him. Shiro's preference for training at times when most people aren't around is starting to cause a few problems. 

 

Today is the perfect example. He's certain he locked the door when he came in, and first years shouldn't have access to the key card that opens it. Even so, when he turns around Keith is leaning against the wall, eyes fixed on his phone. He seems to be playing a game of some sort. 

 

Shiro can't help the smirk that crosses his face as he walks over as quietly as he can. “Keith.”

 

“Waah!” Keith jolts, phone dropping from his hand and clattering on the floor. The next Shiro knows, he's on the floor, Keith straddling him, the icy blade of a knife at his throat. “…Oh. Shiro.”

 

Shiro flips them, pinning Keith–and more importantly, Keith's knife–to the floor. It's not a military-issued weapon, he notes, glancing at it; in fact, it's not like any knife he's seen in the Garrison before. The base is wrapped in cloth, and the blade itself looks sharp and well-polished. “Where did you get that?”

 

“None of your business!” Keith snaps. He's blushing, hair falling across his cheeks. He looks… cute. Shiro mentally slaps himself at the thought. Keith tenses as if about to try to throw Shiro off, and he tightens his grip. “…It's mine, so-”

 

“Alright.” Shiro stares down at him for a moment. “If I let you go, are you going to stab me?”

 

“…No,” Keith says. 

 

Shiro nods, letting go and rolling off of Keith.  He stands. Keith's phone, lying nearby, reflects the light in the room and draws his attention. He picks it up and holds it out for Keith to take. “Sorry for startling you.”

 

Keith grabs the phone and pockets it. “No, it's my fault. I should've been paying more attention to my surroundings. Uh, sorry for almost stabbing you in the throat.”

 

“There's an apology I've never gotten before,” Shiro chuckles. “Don't worry about it. You didn't actually stab me, so it's fine. Just try not to react so violently next time.”

 

Keith glares at him. “If there's a next time I actually will stab you.”

 

“You're welcome to try.”

 

“Maybe I will.”

 

* * *

 

“Shiro. Hey. Wake up.”

 

Shiro wakes to cold steel against his throat and Keith's shit-eating grin above him. The younger cadet offers him a little wave. “Morning.”

 

“Keith!” Shiro sits up so abruptly that Keith, perched on his stomach, falls back onto Shiro's legs with a startled yelp. “What are you- How did you get in here?!”

 

Keith shrugs. “Matt let me in.”

 

“Since when do you know Matt?!”

 

“Since I said I wanted to wake you up by prodding you with a knife,” Keith explains. “He seemed to like the idea.”

 

“Sorry!” Matt calls from his bed. 

 

Shiro sighs. “Okay. Well, you've woken me up now, so would you mind heading outside now?”

 

Keith glances down, apparently just noticing that Shiro is, in fact, only wearing boxers. “…Oh. Um. Sorry.” He turns bright red and scrambles off Shiro's legs, losing his balance and falling off the bed in the process. “Matt didn't warn me you… Uh, yeah. Sorry.”

 

He stumbles back to his feet and backs out of the room. Matt bursts into peals of laughter. Shiro turns to glare up at him. “Really, Matt?”

 

“Sorry, sorry.” Matt grins. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get dressed and go talk to your boyfriend.”

 

Shiro flushes. “He's not my boyfriend! In fact, I think he might be trying to kill me.”

 

Matt throws a pillow at him. “Go!”

 

Shiro gets dressed in record time and trots into the hall, where Keith is standing. “Uh, sorry about that.”

 

“Hey, I'm the one who came into your room before the wake up call.” Footsteps sound down the hall. “Uh, speaking of which, I better get out of here. Get back in your room. We'll talk later.”

 

Shiro waves him off. “Wow,” he comments to Matt as he walks back into their room. “He didn't even start a fight this time.”

 

* * *

 

“Takashi!” Keith snaps. 

 

Shiro turns. “Keith! It's… late. What are you doing here?”

 

Keith raises an eyebrow. “Shiro. We had that battle earlier, hours of training… It's late. Shouldn't you be sleeping?”

 

“Could ask you the same question.”

 

“I woke up.” Keith glares at him. “Because it was cold. Because you weren't there.”

 

Shiro winces. “Uh, I didn't mean to wake you.”

 

“Yeah, I could tell.”

 

“Sorry.” Keith is still glaring. It isn't a pleasant feeling. “Let me guess… You're going to drag me back to bed and not let me leave?”

 

“That's the plan.”

 

Shiro sighs. “Okay, okay. Lead the way.”

 

“Oh, no.” Keith grabs his wrist. “I'm not letting you out of my sight. You'll just sneak off again.”

 

“Fine!” Shiro steps in front. “I love you, you know that?”

 

“I… I love you, too,” Keith mumbles. “But I'm still not letting you continue training.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I hate this one so much, you have no idea. Unfortunately, I ran out of time, so I have to post it. Hopefully tomorrow's will be better. (I have a shortened day at school, so I'll have a little more time to work on it.)


	11. Day 4: Flashback/reality

_*t's cold and damp, filled with a strange purple light. Shiro blinks, confused, thoughts muddied by exhaustion and pain; he just wants to go home. He wants this to all be a dream. He wants to wake up back in the Garrison, with Matt in the bed across the room and Keith joining them for late night parties. Instead, the cell is empty, void of any sort of companionship._

 

_Well. It depends on what is considered companionship. Hagar stands off to one side, watching him with those unnerving yellow eyes. He tries to ignore it, focuses on the purple of her skin, tries to turn it into those beautiful eyes he loves so much. He can't quite do it; maybe it's been too long, maybe he just can't make himself picture Keith here, in this horrible cell. Keith belongs out in the desert on Shiro's hoverbike, wind catching in his hair and skin practically glowing in the sunlight._

 

_Haggar leans a little closer, raises a hand, and his new arm glows with light, no, nononoithurtsithurts-_

 

_His mind fragments, shatters. He only remembers bits and pieces, images flashing through his mind. The arena, blood and chaos and death. His enemies falling one by one, but they aren't his enemies, just slaves, like him, innocent, forced to fight-_

 

_Home. He wants to go home, go back, make it stop makeitstopmakeitstop-_

 

_It burns as Haggar tests him, hurts, hurts so much, he just wants it to stop, even if he dies he wants it to stop, he doesn't care-_

 

_No. No, he has to survive, go home, they're waiting for him, his parents, Keith, Matt and Sam's family, they all have to return safe, he can't fail them like that-_

 

“Takashi!”

 

Shiro jolts awake, lashing out frantically, certain he's still on the Galra ship. His fist meets warm flesh, and there's a pained yelp. It's only then he wakes up fully, eyes opening to the ceiling of his room in the castle. Oh. Just a dream. 

 

“Ow,” Keith mutters from beside him. He touches his cheek, wincing. “Yeah, that'll bruise.”

 

“Oh. Oh, no, Keith, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to-”

 

Keith waves a hand dismissively. “It was an accident. It happens. I should've been more careful.” He reaches out and grabs Shiro's Galra arm, pressing the hand to his cheek. “Ah, that's nice.”

 

Shiro sits up awkwardly, keeping his hand against Keith's cheek. “I really am sorry-”

 

“Stop it, Takashi,” Keith says. He smiles. “You didn't mean to, and it's not like you can control whether or not you have nightmares. I'll just be a little more careful next time I wake you up. Stop apologizing.”

 

Shiro nods uncertainly. “How are we going to explain this, anyway? The others…”

 

“Ah, right.” Keith frowns. “It'd take too long to explain what I was doing in your room, anyway… I'll just say it was a training accident. It happens.”

 

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “Not to you. And can you handle Lance's response? He'll get a lot of mileage out of it.”

 

Keith groans. “I didn't think of that. I guess I'll just have to kick his ass if he says anything.”

 

* * *

 

“Sheesh, Mullet, what happened to you?”

 

Keith shrugs, perching on the table beside Shiro and pulling a bowl of goo towards him. “Started a new level in training.”

 

“And got punched in the face?” Lance snickers, reaching out to poke at the bruise. Keith slaps his hand away and doesn't answer. “Nice. It's good to know our hand-to-hand expert got beaten by a robot.”

 

“Want me to prove how much of an expert I am?” Keith offers dryly. 

 

Shiro holds up a hand. “No sparring outside the training deck. Remember what happened last time?” Last time Lance and Keith got into a fight, they'd managed to get goo halfway up the walls. Allura had banned them from fighting outside the training deck ever again. 

 

Keith nods and goes back to his food. Lance sighs, but returns to his seat without complaint. “Seriously, that must hurt.”

 

“It's not that bad,” Keith assures him. “It looks worse than it is.”

 

“You sure?” Shiro checks. “I can get some ice, or…”

 

Keith reaches out and grabs Shiro's wrist, raising the hand to his cheek. “This is fine,” he says, continuing his food. 

 

* * *

_He can't-_

 

_They're coming, they're going to-_

 

_He's going to-_

 

A weight lands against his chest and legs, sending him sprawling across the floor. The breath is knocked from his lungs. 

 

“Shiro!” Keith rolls off him, apparently having been thrown into him by the now-deactivated Gladiator. “Are you okay? Was it another…”

 

Shiro nods, gasping for air. “…Yeah,” he manages. “Yeah, it was. I'm fine now. What about you? You blocked it, right?”

 

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Keith smiles. “Don't worry about me. I'm fine. I think you blocked the fall well enough.”

 

“I'm glad I could at least do that!” Shiro smiles shakily back. “Thanks for protecting me.”

 

“Any time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha it's short as fuck.


	12. Day 5: Training/playful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, it's late, and it's shit. I'm just constantly disappointing myself now.

“Woah woah woah!” Lance yelps, running into the training room. “What are you two doing, murdering each other?!”

 

Keith frowns at him from his place on the floor, dark hair sticking to his flushed cheeks and panting hard. “We're just sparring,” he says. 

 

Shiro leans back slightly so he can see Lance properly. “Don't worry, we're being careful.” As if to prove the point, he loosens the hold he has on Keith's throat from restricting-but-not-choking to barely-existent. Keith, naturally, takes the opportunity to kick Shiro off balance and roll out from under him. “I nearly had you there,” Shiro mourns. “Thanks, Lance.”

 

“Dude, I thought you guys were having an actual fight!” Lance's eyes are wide with something approaching horror. “I thought you were gonna kill each other!”

 

Keith's eyes flick to the knife in his left hand, and he quickly hides it behind his back. “We weren't going to kill each other, Lance. Why would we do that?”

 

Shiro rubs the back of his neck. “I know how it must have looked. Thing is, the two of us know each other well enough to go all out without worrying.”

 

Keith sighs. “Go away, Lance,” he says. “We're busy.”

 

Lance throws his hands into the air and leaves the room, grumbling all the way. Shiro chuckles. “We're not that busy.”

 

Keith turns to him, eyes bright with challenge. “Oh, are we not? I could've sworn we were in the middle of something.”

 

Shiro grins back at him. “Well, maybe you were.”

 

“Oh, I'll get you for that.” Keith darts across the floor, sprinting past Shiro and kicking the back of his knee. Shiro staggers but doesn't fall, reaching out instinctively to catch Keith's shoulder. The younger Paladin ducks  away, Shiro's hand just clipping his ear. 

 

Shiro can't help but laugh, trying to grab Keith again. The other skips back, offering him an almost mocking smirk. “Good luck with that.”

 

Keith moves like lightning, catching Shiro with quick blows. Not the strongest impact, but there are more of them than Shiro would like. Keith is definitely improving. Shiro, on the other hand, strikes hard but slower; Keith dodges more blows, but each hit does more damage. Overall it about evens out. Of course, Keith eventually overextends himself; he stretches his reach a little too far, and Shiro knocks him to the ground in the moment it takes him to restore his balance. “Cocky,” he teases. 

 

Keith rolls onto his back, defiance gleaming in his eyes. “Don't know what you're talking about,” he replies. 

 

When Shiro straddles him, Keith is ready. He bucks up, one hand sliding behind his back in a smooth motion. His knife gleams as he draws it, and Shiro activates his arm. That's a new part of their matches; Keith insisted that Shiro needed to learn to have a little faith in his ability to not hurt his team, and volunteered himself as sparring partner/test dummy. The light catches the steel in Keith's hand, and his partner skips back a pace, readjusting his grip on the knife. He's grinning, looking wild and deadly and so beautiful that Shiro is worried he might start drooling. 

 

In his distraction, Keith attacks swiftly. He's moving even faster than Shiro expects, rocketing across the floor and swivelling to plant a kick in Shiro's gut. He barely manages to catch the blow in time, fingers closing around Keith's ankle and yanking him off balance. Keith yelps, falling onto his side with a grunt. “Okay, okay!”

 

He goes limp as Shiro straddles him again, completely still except for the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Shiro pins his wrists to the ground. “Yield.”

 

“No,” Keith returns, kicking up abruptly and forcing Shiro to release him to avoid the blow. He squirms to escape, but Shiro repositions himself over Keith's legs and leans forward to pin him more securely. 

 

“Now will you yield?” Shiro teases. 

 

Keith struggles against the hold, then stops and goes completely still. Shiro knows what he's planning, doesn't loosen his grip even a little, and Keith goes back to fighting against the hold. He keeps squirming until he's worn himself out and drops his head onto the floor, panting softly. “Fine,” he gasps. “I yield.”

 

Shiro smiles and stands, offering Keith a hand up. Keith takes it, stumbling a pace before steadying himself against Shiro's arm and stepping back. “You're getting better,” Shiro says. “Almost got me with that kick.”

 

“'Almost' isn't good enough,” Keith says. “'Almost' would still be 'dead' in a real fight.”

 

“Then it's a good thing that in a real fight you have me to back you up,” Shiro says. Keith smiles awkwardly. Then his eyes gleam mischievously and he steps forward into Shiro's space, quick and certain. Shiro considers stepping away. 

 

Then Keith's lips brush his, dry and soft. The Red Paladin steps back just as quickly, blushing. “Thanks for training with me,” he mumbles, and tries to leave. 

 

Shiro grabs his arm before he can, pulling him close and locking an arm around his waist to hold him there. Keith struggles briefly, hands pressing against his chest, then relaxes. His touch turns feather-light, fingers curling loosely into Shiro's shirt. “Glad to be of help,” Shiro says, his breath brushing against Keith's lips as the younger man leans into him, head tilting back. 

 

The door opens, and Keith jerks away. Shiro lets him go, turning to where Hunk stands in the doorway. “Uh, dinner's ready,” he says, looking between the two of them. “Did I interrupt something?”

 

“Nothing important,” Keith says quickly, brushing past Hunk and out the door. “I'm gonna shower.”

 

Shiro offers Hunk a little wave and follows. 


	13. Day 6: Galra Keith/dark Shiro

The prince is quiet again today, Shiro notes, keeping his gaze fixed on the throne at the front of the room. As Zarkon speaks with his generals and Druids, the prince remains silent at the foot of the throne, eyes fixed on his hands. Did Zarkon say something to him again? Or Sendak? No, more likely it was one of their prisoners, the Paladins of Voltron. He hopes it was one of them. He can't attack a Galra except to defend the prince, but a prisoner… He can make a prisoner regret whatever it is they said to make Keith look so sad. 

 

He says nothing until the meeting is over. He doesn't speak a word until they're back in their quarters and Keith turns to him. “Shiro,” he asks, “am I a freak?”

 

Shiro leaps to his feet. “Never!” he insists. “Who told you that?”

 

Keith shakes his head, gesturing for him to sit. “No one did, it's not like that.” Once Shiro settles back on the bed, Keith slides over to lean against his arm with a sigh. “But… I look more like the Paladins than Father… and my uncle won't even let me leave the palace. I just… Am I too… different for this place?”

 

Shiro doesn't really know how to respond to that, so he just reaches out with the arm Haggar granted him and brushes the tips of Keith's ears. Keith leans into the touch, a rumbling purr beginning in his throat. “Different or not,” Shiro begins awkwardly, “you're still my Keith. I don't care what you look like.”

 

“I know that,” Keith says warmly. “It's everyone else I'm worried about. I was talking to the Paladins,” he continues before Shiro can say anything. “They're a little irritating, but they're… nice. I like them, I think.”

 

A pang of something approaching jealousy runs through him, his hand moving from Keith's ear to the base of his neck. “You do?”

 

“Mmhm.” Keith's ears flicker back and forth briefly. “Are you jealous?”

 

“No,” Shiro says quickly. “Whatever makes you happy, kitten.”

 

Keith purrs happily and curls up, head resting in Shiro's lap. “My Champion,” he coos. “So good to me, always.”

 

“Always,” Shiro echoes. Then he frowns. “You visited the cells without me.”

 

“…Yes,” Keith admits. “I was curious, and you were talking to Uncle. I was only there for a few minutes.”

 

“You're not supposed to go anywhere without me,” Shiro mutters. He pinches Keith's ear, just hard enough to make Keith whine and squirm. “Next time, you wait for me. Got it?”

 

“I'm supposed to be giving you orders,” Keith complains. “Stop fussing. I can take care of myself.”

 

“I wasn't fussing,” Shiro insists. “You are a high-profile target; if the Paladins were to hurt you…”

 

“If they were to hurt me, you would rip them all to shreds,” Keith says. He seems to take great pleasure in the idea. “One by one, probably starting with the ones who weren't involved. Right?”

 

“You know me so well.” He hates the arena, hates fighting for the Galra's amusement. But for Keith, he'd kill the population of a galaxy with absolute glee. It's lucky that Keith doesn't want him to kill the population of a galaxy, really. “I would like to talk to them as well.”

 

Keith stands gracefully. “We can go now,” he says. “I want to talk to them again anyway.”

 

“Very well.” Shiro stands as well, walking half a pace behind Keith as they leave the room and head for the cells. 

 

* * *

 

Shiro hates visiting the cells. It's better when Keith is with him, but there are still painful memories associated with the area that make him jumpy and uncomfortable. Lucky for him, Keith knows this and does his best to divert his attention. “Champion.”

 

Haughty, always so haughty in public. His beautiful eyes are fixed forward, arms loose at his sides instead of curling around Shiro's. “Your Highness?”

 

“The Paladins are of your race, are they not?” They are. Keith knows that, just as he knows they are also half his own race. “Tell me about it. Your planet.”

 

“Well…” It's a common question, and Shiro struggles to think of something he hasn't said before. “When I left, they were barely aware of what lay at the outskirts of their own solar system. A very backward species, thinking back on it.”

 

Keith nods. “Perhaps the two of us will visit one day. Ah. Here we are.” He gestures at one cell, three figures sitting inside. 

 

Shiro opens the cell and follows Keith in. The prince sits by the door, Shiro copying him. The Paladins look up at them slowly. “What do you want?” the Blue Paladin snaps. 

 

Keith smiles. It's almost real, too, marred with the faintest bite of distaste. “My Champion wanted to see you,” he says easily, as if it's normal for royalty to obey the whims of their personal guards. 

 

The Paladins' eyes widen as they turn to Shiro. “Holy shit,” the Blue mutters. “Shiro?”

 

Keith turns to him. “You know him?” He's scowling. 

 

“Never seen him before in my life,” Shiro says, dismissing the Paladin with a wave of his hand. “I suppose… he might have gone to the same school as me?”

 

“I always forget that you're a _celebrity_ ,” Keith teases. He turns back to the Paladins, who are staring at him in confusion. “Did you want to talk to them?”

 

The Green Paladin– _Katie_ , he recalls–raises a hand. “Uh… I don't want to sound rude or anything,” liar, “but what exactly _are_  you?”

 

Shiro almost wants to slap her, but Keith just looks vaguely confused. “I'm… me,” he says. “What else would I be?”

 

The Blue Paladin scowls. “You don't look like any alien we've seen!” he insists. “Are you some kind of mutant or something?”

 

Shiro really does intend to slap him for that one, but Keith's fingers press against his wrist. He halts, glaring at the Paladin. “Show some courtesy!”

 

“Now now, Takashi,” Keith says. “I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it. No,” he continues, turning back to the Paladin, “I am not… 'some kind of mutant or something'. Did your Princess not tell you anything? I'm almost offended.”

 

“I guess she never got around to it,” Katie says. Her eyes almost glow with curiosity. “So who are you?”

 

Shiro coughs, drawing their attention. “You are speaking to His Imperial Highness, Prince Keith of the Galra Empire. Try to be respectful.”

 

“That's… not the name I expected,” the Yellow Paladin says timidly. “I mean… for a Galra…”

 

“My mother named me,” Keith explains. He's certainly in a generous mood. “She was human, like you. Had a very particular sense of humour…”

 

“You're basically a mutt,” the Blue Paladin says, unimpressed. “A royal mutt. Wait- Does that make Zarkon your dad?!”

 

“Uncle, thanks!” Keith snaps, holding out a hand to keep Shiro from attacking. “And don't call me a mutt. Half-blood or not, I could still put you through a wall if I so chose.” He offers Shiro a sidelong smirk. “Or I could hand you over to my Champion for a while. You're really annoying him, you know. He hates it when people insult me.”

 

Shiro can't help but smile back at his prince, for a moment forgetting about the Paladins. Then Keith turns back to them. “So,” he says, “out of curiosity, what would I get if I were to… help you escape? Perhaps forget to lock the door? Maybe, if asked especially nicely, lead you to the Red Lion? What would you do then?”

 

“Keith!” Shiro hisses. 

 

“Oh hush, I'm just asking.”

 

“What do you want?” Katie asks cautiously. 

 

Keith offers her a smile. “Simple. Take us with you. Swear to take us back to your castle, and I'll lead you straight to the Red Lion. Deal?”

 

The Paladins barely hesitate. “Deal.”

* * *

 

Allura doesn't like it. Of course, that undoubtably only makes Keith enjoy it more. Especially after the Red and Black Lions claim him and Shiro as their Paladins. Keith spends some time parading through the castle in his new equipment, but soon settles down. He and Shiro share a room and a bed, and often eat separately from everyone else. It's a little lonely sometimes, but at least they have each other. 

 

“Takashi?” Keith asks one night, curled up against Shiro's side. “Do you think we're doing good here?”

 

“I think so, yeah,” Shiro says. 

 

“Mm. That's good.” Keith yawns. “Hey, Takashi.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I love you.” Keith rolls over right after saying it, cheeks undoubtedly flushed purple. 

 

Shiro chuckles, brushing Keith'a ears with a finger. “I love you too.”


	14. Day 7: Free day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Mushu voice* I LIVE!!!  
> Seriously, I am SO sorry this took so long. I was busy, then I was sick, then I kinda just... forgot. This is so not worth the wait. Anyway, more AC AU. It's a different AC AU this time, because I watched the movie. I might actually make this one a full story, once I've done a bit more on my other ongoing works.

“You’ll get it eventually,” Shiro promises him.

Keith snorts, rolling over on the narrow cot. He can’t quite turn his back without falling off, but judging by Shiro’s quiet sigh the point gets across just fine. “Will that be before or after they rob humanity of its free will?” he asks.

“Keith.” Shiro sits on the floor beside him and rests a hand on his shoulder. “Look, I know it’s hard, but you’ve come so far in just a few weeks! I’m sure we can find a way to sabotage the Animus before they find the Sword.”

Keith glances over. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… hard.” Understatement.

The last month had been one disaster after another. Keith was no stranger to weird, but this? This was a whole new level of _batshit crazy_. He’d gone from a reasonably comfortable position – with an apartment and everything, too. Damn did he regret losing that – to… this. He’d accepted the job when it was offered, of course; who wouldn’t accept a contract as a researched for _the_ name in media? It had been suspicious, sure, but it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d had to get himself out of a dangerous situation.

Yeah, he hadn’t been prepared for ancient conspiracies and being shoved in a cell with someone who immediately tried to kill him – thanks, Shiro – and then mistook him for his long dead ancestor. Oh, and he was expected to search through said ancestor’s memories for a magic sword, because that made so much sense. Honestly, fuck his entire life.

“I know,” Shiro says calmly. “You get used to it.” When Keith glances over, the other man is regarding him with a startling degree of warmth. Startling, but not unfamiliar.

_“Akira,” Kuro whispers gently, smoothing the other man’s hair behind his ear. “Akira,” he says again, eyes bright with a warmth that he both recognises and doesn’t-_

It woke him from the Animus, that look, too unfamiliar to bear. Haggar herself had come to take a look at it; she’d thought it was a bug in the program. It wasn’t; Keith just hadn’t had anyone look at him like that since he was very young. Now, though, it’s like Shiro keeps slipping half into his own ancestor’s memories in a way he hasn’t since Keith first arrived. Keith shakes the thought away. It’s probably nothing important. “So everyone keeps telling me,” he mutters. “Seriously, it’s like he’s locked himself in his head!”

“It’s normal,” Shiro says. It must be the billionth time Keith has heard that. The scientists, the medics, the other test subjects; they’d all said the same thing. It doesn’t make it any less disconcerting to have someone else’s memories in his head. Useless platitudes are all they have to offer, he thinks.

“Why can’t we just break out?” he mutters, half to himself. Most of the walls wouldn’t be that hard to climb. There are catwalks leading to off-limits sections of the building in the cafeteria and Animus rooms. Yeah, the Templars have had time to prepare, but tearing through superior defences to accomplish the impossible was Akira’s – and, by extension, Keith’s – speciality. They could escape, even if it was just the two of them. They could find the Brotherhood and find a way to wipe these assholes off the face of the Earth.

“We’d _die_ ,” Shiro reminds him. “They have machine guns, and we have our hands.”

“You’ve got a bit of an advantage there,” Keith says dryly, gesturing towards where he assumes Shiro’s Galra-tech arm is at the moment. He heaves a sigh. “You’re right, though. We’ll have to plan carefully.” He hates planning. Making it up on the fly has always worked for him.

“We’ll sleep on it,” Shiro decides. Is that a hint of disapproval in his voice? Well, it is late. “Get some rest. Early start tomorrow.”

Keith groans. “Don’t remind me.”

* * *

 

He dreams of the Animus.

He’s standing by a window, staring out at the cherry blossoms. Except, it’s the wrong season for them, and there aren’t any plants at all around the compound. Back in Akira’s head again, then. As if it wasn’t bad enough being stuck there during the day. He – Akira, he reminds himself – is wearing a simple grey yukata; it’s been left undone, and the dull ache in his hips is enough to inform him of what his ancestor was getting up to before the current memory began. He’s sad, though he’s not sure why; the link to Akira’s thoughts and feelings, while clearer than it had been when the dreams first started, is still far fuzzier than it is in the Animus.

There’s a groan from the futon behind him. “Akira?” Kuro asks sleepily. “It’s late; come back to bed.”

“We have work to do,” he says by way of reply. “The sword is near; I know it is. We must find it before they do, or all may be lost.”

“We’ll find it in the _morning_ ,” Kuro insists. He can hear the rustle of movement, but doesn’t turn. He’s not surprised when his lover’s arms snake around his waist. “Come back to bed, Akira.”

That’s when he turns, tilting his head back to meet Kuro’s gaze. “I think you’ve had me enough times for one night,” he says dryly. (Keith almost wants to gag. It’s like thinking about his parents having sex.)

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Kuro says insistently. “Once more, for luck?”

Akira sighs in defeat. “Only once more,” he warns.

* * *

 

Keith wakes up abruptly, very glad that the dream cut off before he saw anything else.

“Keith?” Shiro asks sleepily from the other cot. Keith flushes at the tone; Shiro sounds too much like Kuro for his own good sometimes. “You okay?”

“Uh… Y-yeah,” Keith stutters. “Just another dream. Um, y’know.” Dammit, he hates these dreams the most. They always turn him into a blushing, stuttering mess around Shiro; and worse, the other always knows exactly what happened. At least he’s polite enough not to mention it.

“You sure you’re okay?” Shiro double-checks. Why does he have to be so _nice_? He’s nothing like Kuro’s rougher, more vulgar attitude, but Keith still can feel his heart racing. It’s just the Bleeding Effect, he insists to himself. It’s nothing to do with him, or Shiro, it’s just Shiro’s resemblance to his ancestor and Akira’s emotions bleeding into his brain. Can’t be helped. It’s certainly not a crush. Keith doesn’t get _crushes_ , whatever Lance insinuates. What does that guy know, anyway?

“Keith?” Shiro asks. He sounds concerned, and Keith realises he’d never answered that last question.

“I’m fine,” he says. “Don’t worry. Might as well go back to sleep.”

He wants to get up and lie down on Shiro’s cot. He wants to fall asleep listening to the beat of the other man’s heart. He wants-

No. No, he doesn’t. It’s Akira, not him. It’s nothing to do with him. It’s really nothing. He just has to get used to it, that’s all.

“Okay,” Shiro says. “I’ll see you in the morning, then. Good night.”

“Good night,” Keith echoes.

In the morning, they’ll go back to the Animus, back to fighting to keep the Sword of Eden away from the Templars. But, for now, Keith is happy to fall asleep to the sound of Shiro’s soft breathing across the room.


End file.
